


Love's Labor's Never Lost: The Third Part of the Story of Casien Yedlin

by ArtemisMoonsong



Series: The (Really and Truly Inspiring) Story of Casien Yedlin [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2020-02-08 12:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 112,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18623044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisMoonsong/pseuds/ArtemisMoonsong
Summary: Four more years have passed since Casien Yedlin was married to the newly crowned High King of Skyrim. Now, he and his friends return home to Windhelm after a year in Winterhold. He longs to see his husband, though a part of him will miss the relative anonymity he's enjoyed this past year at the college.Everyone deserves a little domestic bliss - even a king and a former servant. But it seems the gods may be insisting on one last adventure.





	1. Chapter 1

  
_beautiful art by[agaricals](http://agaricals.tumblr.com/) !!_

Hello, everyone! This will serve as the "title" page of Part 3 of Casien's story. Please bookmark the story so that you'll be aware of each new update! 

In the meantime, please enjoy some of the commissioned art and wonderful fan art that have been created for Casien and his friends!!! As always, you can follow me on Tumblr at [curiousartemis.tumblr.com](curiousartemis.tumblr.com). I occasionally post drabbles there as well as reblog fan art and answer asks about our crazy boy, his king, and their friends. (You'll also see me reblog lots of content from other folks' fabulous OCs!)

 

* * *

 

The scene on the hill, by [kf1ne.tumblr.com](https://kf1ne.tumblr.com)

 

  
What I consider to be the most "canon" version of Casien! by AO3 user [Topsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy)!

 

  
Auri's OC Severin sings Casien his favorite lullaby, by [diamond-loki.tumblr.com](https://diamond-loki.tumblr.com)

 

  
Casien and his... cat?! by [temrin-doodles.tumblr.com](https://temrin-doodles.tumblr.com)

 

Two hearts becoming one, by [v0od0okat.tumblr.com](https://v0od0okat.tumblr.com)

 

From left to right: Brelyna, Ysme, Hanna + Eleanor, THE BOY, HIS KING, Hellina + Ania, Grandpa Galmar, and Una ♡ Also by [v0od0okat.tumblr.com](https://v0od0okat.tumblr.com)!!

 

  
Casien and Ulfric enjoying a mud bath together <3 by <https://that-nordic-bish.tumblr.com/>

 

  
Older, 30-something Casien by AO3 user [Topsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy)!

 

  
Casien and Ulfric mood board ♡

 

  
Have you ever wondered what a  _REAL LIFE_ Casien would look like? Well, wonder no more. (It's actor Frank Dillane.)


	2. Chapter 2

“I think I see it!” said Brelyna, rising up in the saddle as high as she could go. “I think I see the castle!”

We had been traveling for over a month now. It was the second Middas of Rain's Hand, and the sun had even begun to grow hot against our backs—at least on those days when it deigned to show its face. The ride from Winterhold to Windhelm wouldn’t have normally taken so long, and we had even waited longer in the season than usual to start our journey, in hopes of avoiding that last great winter storm. But as fate would have it, I had come down with some illness or other not a week out from Winterhold. I wasn’t generally one to fuss over myself in such a fashion, but past experience had proven that such an illness could quickly prove deadly for a constitution such as my own, and thus we had been forced to stay at a roadside inn until I was better.

Today, at least according to Hanna and the other soldiers’ calculations, we were to finally reach Windhelm. I don’t think anyone could truly be more eager than I was to see the first outlines of the city I had been calling ‘home’ for many years now, but somehow, Brelyna managed to surpass me, or at least give the appearance of doing so.

Eleanor and I exchanged an amused little look, for she’d been mistakenly claiming she could see the palace for the past hour now. But the gray clouds were so heavy in the sky, and we had been traveling steadily downhill since this morning, the tall, massive pines that grew on either side of the road blocking our line of sight. It seemed rather unlikely that—

“Oh wait,” said Hanna. “I think I see it, too.”

Just then, the clouds seemed to magically part, the sun showing itself for the first time in days. And there, piercing the blue and gold horizon, peeking through the trees, and towering over the surrounding high, distant, gray city walls, was the great, dark Palace of the Kings.

It had been an entire year since I’d last seen it—a very busy year, and a very fulfilling one, admittedly, but a very long one, too. A strange ache arose in my heart, and my gloved fingers gripped the reins just a little more tightly, though I did my best to dampen my sudden onslaught of feelings. _Not long now_ , I promised myself, breathing in and forcing myself to relax. _I’ll see him again soon._

In less than half an hour, we were at the first river crossing, for we’d left the last little town hours ago. Springtime made the waters wild, the riverbed seeming to groan as it labored beneath the weight of so much melted snow and ice. Salmon leapt up, disappearing behind the roaring falls. Much further down the river, a large, brown bear looked up from where it was fishing and watched us as we rode across the stone bridge.

“I’m so excited!” said Brelyna, half-bouncing in her saddle, much to the distress of her long-suffering mount. “I’ve never been to Windhelm.”

“We know,” said Eleanor, rolling her eyes. “You’ve only said as much a thousand times already.”

“Have I been talking about it too much? Sorry! But aren’t you excited? And we’re not just visitors like we were in Whiterun. We’re starting up the first satellite mage college! I can’t believe Professor Aren picked _us_!”

“Can’t possibly imagine why,” said Hanna.

I held up a hand, resting it over my chest with false solemnity.

“If you’re implying that _I_ had anything to do with this—

“I would never,” came the dry response.

“Oh yeah,” said Eleanor, “I’m sure the fact that we’re both friends with the husband of the jarl of Windhelm is _purely_ coincidental.”

“You know what gets _me_ ,” I said, “Arum-Shei. I thought he hated it here. I can’t believe he asked Savos and Mirabelle to be assigned here again.”

Eleanor snorted.

“It’s because he doesn’t get on with Professor Enthir. Or with Professor Urag, come to think of it. Or Professor Marence… not to mention half a dozen other adepts.”

“And now he won’t like you very much either!” pointed out Brelyna. “I think they really would have said ‘yes’ if you hadn’t spoken out against him.”

“I didn’t speak out _against_ him,” I said, feeling a little put upon, despite the fact that that was pretty much exactly what I’d done. “I just… sort of pointed out that he wasn’t the best tutor in the world.”

“Didn’t you say you told Professor Mirabelle that he was lazy at best and negligent at worst?” asked Eleanor. “That he had you trying all sorts of dangerous spells without supervision or assistance? That because of him you almost set fire to the—

“Yes, all right,” I said quickly. “Maybe I did say all that. Some of it at least. I mean, seriously, who tells an apprentice to practice fire magic in a stable??”

“Who actually _listens_ and agrees to try to practice fire magic in a stable?”

“Don’t be mean, Eleanor!” said Brelyna, but they were both laughing.

I huffed under my breath. I had to admit, I was somewhat looking forward to being back in a city where at least _some_ of the people treated me with deference and respect—however undeserved.

Before long, we were approaching the second bridge, the high, gray city walls now looming before us. We rode past several farms, workers pausing in their tasks to rise and shield their eyes as they gazed curiously up at us. I supposed there was nothing remarkable about our party, save that we were traveling with a perhaps unusual number of armed guards. How strange, they must have thought, to see two young Dunmer and a Breton riding at the head of such a company!

We pulled our horses up at the city gates, which remained open as usual, allowing good folk to pass through as needed, assuming they didn’t appear overly suspicious. But a large, armed party such as ours—there were ten other guards, besides Hanna—would no doubt necessitate at least a cursory inspection.

“State your business,” said one of the gate guards, frowning as he gazed up at us, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his weapon.

“You imbecile!” hissed the other guard. “That’s the king’s husband! Welcome home, Lord Casien,” she said, this last directed at me, of course.

“Thank you,” I said, and I couldn’t help smiling at how the first guard’s eyes widened, a faint flush creeping over his face.

“I beg your pardon, m’lord,” he stammered. “I—I didn’t recognize you.”

“Oh?” I grinned, teasing. “Have I changed so much? _Please_ say I’ve gotten taller.”

“Afraid you’d have to dismount for us to tell, m’lord,” said the second guard, returning my cheeky grin. She nodded towards my old gray gelding. “Still riding that poor old gaffer, I see.”

I gave my horse an affectionate pat.

“As long as he can carry me,” I said.

“Shall we head up to the stables?” prompted Hanna.

I nodded and waved to the guards before heeling my horse forward, the others doing the same. We passed under the parapet and soon entered the city proper.

It was springtime in Windhelm, which meant the stone streets were muddy and brown, though little stray wildflowers grew in the cracks between the stones faster than city workers could stop them. It was mid-afternoon, and the city was alive and bustling with activity, folk hurrying about their business, merchants manning their stalls and talking animatedly with patrons. We pulled our horses up to avoid running into a group of young women who emerged from a shop, chatting and laughing, all of them only sparing us a cursory glance before hurrying on their way.

“It’s so lively!” chirped Brelyna. “I don’t know why I thought it would be all dark and gloomy!”

“You should see it in the dead of winter,” I said. “Half the streets are impassable, so piled up with snow that no one can clear them out fast enough. And everyone so hooded and buttoned up you can’t make out who’s standing right next to you until you’re both indoors.”

“Not much different from Winterhold, then,” said Eleanor.

“I suppose. But there’s just something very foreboding about Windhelm in winter, when the clouds get so heavy they look as if they could touch the tops of the walls.”

In the past, the Gray Quarter, of course, had suffered more than any other part of town during the winter. One particularly bad winter—the one that followed the moot, in fact—so many fierce storms had pummeled the city in a row that several people had been trapped within their homes by the rapidly piling up snow. Despite all my previous lobbying efforts, city workers had focused primarily on the other parts of the city, especially Valunstrad, which housed the wealthiest citizens. When I learned of this, I had been furious, and brought the information to my husband—who subsequently called the general foreman into his office and fired him. I had initially felt rather guilty about that, but his understudy was a clever woman who either lacked the prejudices of her predecessor or knew well enough how to best please her jarl. Efforts were shifted immediately towards the Gray Quarter, and some people who were finally freed from their homes saw sunlight again for the first time in days.

“Hold up a minute,” I said, pulling up my horse, a sudden idea coming to my head. “I want to show you guys something.”

We would have to leave the horses behind, though, since the streets would rapidly become too narrow. I swung my leg over the saddle, sliding down to the ground, awkward as ever when it came to dismounting.

“What’re you doing?” asked Hanna, pulling up her own horse and gazing down at me in alarm.

“Here,” I said, handing her my horse’s reins. “Can you take him back to the stables? I promise we’ll be up at the palace soon.”

“The jarl won’t like that,” she warned, and I could tell she was weighing whether it would be prudent for her to dismount and join us.

“Oh, let him have a bit of fun before that overprotective king of his gets his hands all over him,” said Eleanor, even as I beckoned for her and Brelyna to dismount and join me. Her _brilliant_ choices of words of course caused Brelyna to titter behind her hand—and me to clear my throat and try not to blush.

Hanna frowned down at her for a hard moment before finally rolling her eyes.

“Fine,” she said. “I don’t work for him anymore anyway. Which means,” she added over her shoulder at the other soldiers, “It’s on _your_ heads if anything should happen to him.”

“Great,” muttered one woman, and I couldn’t resist giving her a cheeky little smile as she rode past.

“Well,” I said, raising my eyebrows at Eleanor. “ _That_ was unlike you.”

She sniffed. “I’ve evolved. I’m all about adventure and risk-taking now.”

“Speaking of adventure,” said Brelyna. “What did you want to show us?”

I smiled.

“Follow me.”

They exchanged a curious look before doing as requested; I led them back the way we’d come before taking a left at the next large crossroad. We were now three otherwise anonymous folk pushing our way gently through the mid-afternoon crowds, and though I had grumpily longed for just a hint of respect and deference an hour or so ago, I now privately cherished the last few moments of anonymity I would have—the last time anyone would treat me like a normal person, just as they all did up at the college, and not the husband of the High King of Skyrim.

“Where’re you taking us?” asked Eleanor, narrowly avoiding bumping into a farmer with a large basket of goods strapped to her back.

“You’ll see,” I said.

Within minutes, the streets had somewhat cleared out as we left the main part of town. The tall buildings on either side began to close in on us, and the streets became more rounded and steep. Soon, we passed fewer and fewer humans, until finally the only folk we passed were Dunmer, all going about their own business, of course, one man whistling as he pushed a cart back up towards the city center, another hanging clothes out to dry beside his little apartment building, another woman standing outside her front door with a bucket of paint.

“This is the Gray Quarter,” breathed Brelyna, her eyes widening as she looked all around us.

I smiled.

“This is where most of our people live here in the city,” I said. “There are a few who live in the other quarters, and some outside the city walls, but most live and even work here. We’ve been making improvements that should’ve happened decades ago, but at least they’re happening.”

I pointed out a new set of plumbing pipes—forged from Dwemer alloys, of course, and hence resistant to the cold—climbing up the side of one of the buildings. We were still in the process of bringing or upgrading sewage as well as hot water systems to many parts of the quarter, but progress had been steady the past few years, and things had clearly improved even more since I’d last been home. And even despite all the mud and dirt, it was quite clear that the roads were freshly bricked, too. Many previously abandoned or dilapidated buildings had been torn down and replaced with newer, safer structures, as well.

“Impressive,” said Eleanor, as we continued to make our way slowly through the streets. “You’re going to make me feel bad for teasing you about it all these years.”

“That was the plan,” I said, laughing a little.

“But why now?” asked Brelyna. “You could have shown us later, after you and the jarl were reunited. I _know_ you miss him something awful!”

I couldn’t help wincing at her words because, well… they were true. But still.

I shrugged. “I just wanted you guys to see it—to _experience_ it, as normal people, not as guests of the jarl’s husband. And I _know_ I wouldn’t normally be allowed to come here alone like this, and for good reason, I guess, considering everything that’s happened in the past.”

“You mean like getting kidnapped?” asked Brelyna, her eyes wide.

“Or getting lost in a daedric prince’s realm, thereby causing your future husband and two of your best friends to risk their lives rescuing you?” asked Eleanor.

I tried to ignore her smirk but couldn’t help the little huff that escaped me.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Or implied. Anyway—

“Oh, and two words,” said Eleanor. “Malyn Varen.”

Brelyna was tittering behind her hand again.

“And don’t forget Azura’s Star,” continued Eleanor. “ _It has to be a mage_ , you said. But really, did it? Or does someone we all know just happen to have a knack for putting himself in mortal peril?”

“That’s harsh!” said Brelyna. “But true.”

“How do you two always manage to turn every serious conversation I try to have with you into a ‘Let’s pick on Casien!’ game?” I grumbled.

“Because we love you?” Eleanor said, dropping an arm around my shoulders and giving me a silly smirk.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the little smile I felt creeping onto my face. The three of us had been friends now for five years, give or take a few months. It was hard, if not impossible, to imagine my life without them.

I pointed out the Corner Club as we passed it—the place where I’d first woken up and realized I’d been abandoned by the only family I had left. I contemplated taking them inside, but I knew I’d be recognized immediately—and already, there were a few folk we passed in the streets giving me curious looks, for though they hadn’t seen me in a year, many Dunmer, not surprisingly, well knew who I was. I supposed being dressed in travel clothes without a guard in sight was thus far sufficient enough to hide my identity—for now, at least, since I’m sure most also knew that the king’s consort had been away for over a year.

As we began to pass out of the Gray Quarter, I started to feel a nervous tension in my belly. Not a bad feeling; in fact, quite the opposite. My hands felt jittery, my heart started beating just a little bit faster, and a warmth seemed to bloom inside me as I looked up and gazed at the palace, whose dark, familiar presence loomed larger and larger as we neared the city center. I caught my friends looking at me, and frowned as they exchanged a little grin between them.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” said Brelyna, smiling innocently.

“You’re giving the entire castle ‘fuck me’ eyes,” said Eleanor. “We get it. You haven’t seen him in a year. You’re probably about to burst.”

“Burst?” I asked, but the tips of my ears were already turning red.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “He probably feels the same way. I bet you two won’t leave your bedroom for at _least_ three days.”

“Eleanor,” I groaned, and tried to ignore both her and Brelyna immediately erupting into giggles.

I stopped abruptly, then, just as we’d rounded the final corner that led out of the quarter. My friends stopped beside me, all three of us staring now at the scene playing out before us.

Two Nord men had a Dunmer woman all but cornered against the wall. She stood with her back straight and her shopping basket clutched tight to her chest, her mouth pressed into a thin line as she eyed them both. One of the men reached out to touch her cheek and she flinched, jerking her head aside. The two men laughed, though as yet made no move to press their advances.

I began to walk towards them before I could convince myself to do otherwise. Magic sizzled through me, but I tamped it down, squeezing my fingers into my palms until the sparks snuffed themselves out.

“Casien!” hissed Eleanor, but I ignored her, and kept walking.

“We’ve seen the way you look at us,” one of the men was saying, smirking. “Why don’t you just admit that you want this as much as we do?”

“You said yourself your husband isn’t home,” said the second man. “C’mon. You know you want a nice, thick, Nord co—

“Excuse me,” I said.

All three turned to look at me. The woman gave me an anxious look—I don’t think my presence inspired much in the way of reassurance.

“Excuse yourself,” said the first man, his smile disappearing from his face. “This is a private conversation.”

“Oh,” I said, planting my hands on my hips. “Is _that_ what this is. Because it looks to me like you’re harassing this woman.”

“Look,” said the other man. “I’ll only say this once. Mind your own business, brat. This doesn’t involve you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” snorted the first man. “He’s little enough. Put a sack over his head, turn him around, and you wouldn’t really know the difference.”

My blood seemed to run abruptly cold—and it didn’t really help that this was very near the place I’d been cornered myself all those years ago, when my magic had first manifested itself in such a destructive, wild fashion.

“That shut him up,” said the other man, chuckling. “You can have him if you like, but me and the little lady here have something special going on. Am I right, or am I right?” he asked, this last directed at the elven woman, who glared back at him in disgust.

“What’s going on over here?”

The two men seemed to start at the sound of the guard’s voice, and I had to struggle not to let out a tremendous sigh of relief. The woman cast me one last look before slipping away while the men were distracted, both of them now backing up slightly (as if that would exonerate them) while looking at the quickly approaching pair of guards.

“Lord Casien!” said one of the guards, immediately recognizing me and saluting fist to chest, his fellow doing the same. “You’re back!”

“Yes,” I said, smiling a little.

The woman’s two harassers turned to gaze down at me in shock now, their eyes widening as they must have realized now how deep in it they were.

“Any sort of trouble, Lord Casien?” asked the second guard, narrowing his eyes.

I hesitated—but only for a second.  
  
“Well,” I said, clearing my throat and straightening slightly. “I believe I interrupted these men while they were busy sexually harassing a woman. Then one of them threatened to rape me.” I frowned. “And called me a brat. I’m almost 25 years old, you know,” I added, putting my hands on my hips again and looking up at the man who’d insulted me.

The two guards looked astonished at first, but that astonishment quickly shifted to livid anger.

“You don’t say,” said the first guard, his eyes narrowing, hand falling, probably instinctively, to the hilt of his sword.

“Right,” said the other guard. “You’ll both be coming with us, then.” He paused, glancing at me. “You’ll be all right, my lord? By yourself?”

I smiled.

“I’m not by myself. I’m with my friends.” I looked back over my shoulder at Eleanor and Brelyna, who started and waved at the two guards. “See?”

The guard eyed my friends before giving me an uncertain nod.

“If you say so, my lord.”

He hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say more, but then appeared to change his mind. Then, he and the other guard each grabbed one of the harassers by the arm and began leading them in the general direction of the city prison.

I turned to face my friends again. They were both staring at me as if I were insane.

I smiled, and bowed theatrically, sweeping my hand out beside me.

“Welcome to Windhelm,” I said, grinning at Eleanor’s little snort.

We resumed our track through the city then, our steps quickening as we drew closer and closer to the castle. Most of the guards recognized me now, standing at attention and saluting as I passed. Brelyna gawked openly at this display of deference, while Eleanor did her best to pretend as though she were unfazed by it all—though I saw her eyes darting back and forth every time one of the guards pressed fist to chest and nodded their head towards me.

“It’s like being friends with a prince!” Brelyna said, as we made our way towards the palace’s main doors.

“Not a prince,” I said wryly, nodding at the two guards who saluted and moved to open the doors for us. “Just the husband of a jarl.”

“Right,” said Eleanor. “You did nothing to earn any of this. Nothing at all, like, say, completely rebuild and rehabilitate the Gray Quarter. Oh, and there’s the little matter of being known for keeping the notoriously passionate High King of Skyrim from waging war on anyone who so much as looks at either of you wrong.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Nice try. But he’s managed a whole year without me, and the country’s still intact, so I’d say your theory falls a little flat.”

As we entered the main hall, the tables were mostly empty, a few servants already arrived to begin preparing for dinner, which was at least an hour off. Past the long tables and up the stone steps was the immense dais, upon which sat the great throne of the jarl, flanked by two massive braziers—which, while looking very impressive, I also knew helped to keep the throne and any nearby seats nice and toasty during the colder months.

I was surprised not to have met anyone yet—especially my husband, who I had genuinely expected to see striding towards me at any moment. His office was near the end of the great hall, down a short hallway to the left, and that’s where I had been intending to take my two friends—when I noticed two people actually standing on the dais.

It was Lia Stone-Fist, and beside her was Hanna. They were obviously waiting for us, and it seemed clear that Hanna had arrived well before we did, in time for Lia to notice that our horses had arrived, even if we had not. She was standing, straight and tall as always, hands folded behind her back. The expression on her face was solemn, though not grim. My heart gave a nervous little beat, but I knew, logically, that if she had truly awful news, she would not be smiling, however sad her smile seemed.

“Casien,” she said, her voice warm with affection as I ascended the stairs. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying my best to tamp down the anxiety I felt rising up within me. ~~~~

“These are you friends?” she asked, smiling at Brelyna and Eleanor.

“Yes,” I said, and I introduced them both. “They’re going to help set up the first satellite college here in Windhelm. Though I guess our first order of business will be figuring out just where that’s going to be.”

Lia arched her eyebrows. “An ambitious endeavor. But then, you have been bringing change to Windhelm since before you were married. Much to the city’s betterment, of course.”

I smiled, a bit hesitantly, I imagine, and finally the expression on her own face seemed to fall.

“Oh, Caisen.” She sighed, then seemed unable to help herself any longer and reached out to cup her hand gently around my cheek, the affectionate, motherly gesture surprising me, even making me blush. “How we’ve missed you…” She breathed in, then, lowering her hand. “But I’m afraid I have rather unfortunate news. Now there is no need for you to look so alarmed. I simply have the unhappy task of informing you that Ulfric is not here, nor will be he be here for many more weeks—for as long as a month, perhaps even two.”

I blinked, her words washing over me, at first not making sense—until the reality of what she was saying finally started to sink in.

“…Oh,” I said, and I could feel my whole body deflating slightly, my heart dropping down somewhere into the vicinity of my stomach.

Lia sighed, and when I looked up again, the expression on her face was one of pity, albeit tinged with great kindness.

“He tried to stay as long as he could. But it couldn’t be put off any longer, I’m afraid. An invitation from the king of Farrun arrived just before your own letter telling us that you would be delayed for at least a week, possibly longer.”

“The king of Farrun!” I said, blinking in surprise. “That’s in High Rock!”

“King Alain isn’t known for trusting outsiders,” said Eleanor, frowning. “He barely speaks to the other provinces, let alone anyone else.”

Lia nodded, her eyes critically sizing my friend up.

“Quite so. I will share the contents of the letter with you once you are settled,” she continued, speaking to me again. “But it seems that Skyrim may have more allies in this inevitable war against the Empire than we realized.”

“Casien!!”

I turned at the sound of a familiar young woman’s voice and smiled despite myself as 18-year-old Nella came racing across the hall and up the steps before wrapping her arms around me in a joyous hug. I hugged her back, reflecting wryly on the fact that she was now taller than me, her dirty blond hair, forever in disarray, briefly obscuring my face as she embraced me.

“I can’t believe you’re back!” she exclaimed, beaming at me, her hands still gripping my shoulders. “I mean, of course I can believe it, it’s just so wonderful! I’m sure you’re sad about Uncle not being here, but it won’t be for too long, so don’t cry or anything, all right? Besides, we’re all here, well, not Father, of course, as he went with Uncle, and Inge and Asgar are down in Riften for the summer, being all noble and what not, but Mother and me, and Una and Hasan and little Emrik, and Ania and Hellina are all here!”

“Nella!” said her mother, looking as exasperated as ever at having to deal with her rambunctious youngest daughter. “Take a breath, for Nine’s sake!”

Nella laughed.

“Sorry, Mother! Oh, and I’m sure you’re wondering who’s been taking care of Chomper now that Uncle’s away, and the answer is—me, of course! I’ve been trying to get her to sleep in my bed for the past three nights, but she mostly just curls up on a pile of clothes or in the chair by the bed. I’m sure she misses you something fierce!”

“…Chomper?” asked Eleanor.

“My cat,” I said.

“I knew you had a cat. I just didn’t know you’d named it _Chomper_.”

I cast a glare at Hanna, who seemed unable to resist snorting, which naturally caused Brelyna to titter behind her hand. Even Lia looked a little amused.

Nella grinned.

“It’s apt, though! You should have seen her when she was a kitten. She could take the skin right off your fingers!”

“She doesn’t do that anymore,” I said, frowning.

“She’s been awfully moody since you left, though. She got Father’s toe a couple of weeks ago.”

“You’d think he’d been wounded in battle from all the complaining he did about it,” said Lia, huffing a little under her breath. “The servants had a to-do getting the blood out of the carpet.”

This was disheartening news to me, on top of everything else. My cat did have a strong tendency to bite when she was a kitten, but she had mostly grown out of it as an adult. She stayed on the third floor of the palace and spent most of her time in our apartment, generally hiding if someone she didn’t know tried to enter. To think that she had fallen to actually attacking people!

“Now you’ve gone and upset him about his _cat_ of all things,” said Eleanor, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry!” laughed Nella, patting me on the shoulder.

“Well,” said Lia, speaking in that familiar, authoritative tone of voice of hers. “I think it’s time we let you three settle in after your long journey. All of your things have already been taken up to your rooms. We may eat upstairs for dinner tonight, if you don’t feel up to dealing with Windhelm’s finest families just yet.”

That was directed at me, of course, and I had only to share a brief look with Eleanor and Brelyna before giving a quick nod.

“Thanks,” I said. “I don’t think I could really handle all the questions and platitudes tonight.”

Lia returned my nod and turned to lead the way out. I, of course, knew where my own rooms were, but she (and a trailing, chattering Nella) intended to show Eleanor and Brelyna each to their room as well and to help them settle in if needed. I was disappointed to see Hanna break off and head presumably down to the barracks. I tried to catch Eleanor’s eye, but she was refusing to look at me. I sighed and gave up, my own disappointment still weighing too heavily on my mind to try to interfere too much with my friends’ relationship woes.

Once Eleanor and Brelyna were both settled, Lia followed me back to the doors to my own apartment, where she lingered, and cast me a warm smile.

“We’ll see you for dinner in, say, about an hour? Take a nice, relaxing bath, wash away all that grime.” She couldn’t seem to resist reaching over and sort of fluffing her fingers through my wild, untrimmed hair, flicking them with amusement afterward as if to flick away all the dirt that had no doubt built up there during my journey here. “The letter can wait until tomorrow. In any case, I imagine you’ve another letter waiting for you. You mustn’t cry about it, child, no matter what he says,” she continued, when my eyes must have widened in alarm—for I knew of whom she must be speaking now. “It’ll be full of romantic nonsense, I’m sure, but you’ll see him again soon. Only a little bit longer than expected.”

I nodded, thanking her and trying not to roll my eyes when she insisted on extracting a promise from me not to cry.

Once inside, I closed the door behind me, absently pulling off my dirty boots before laying down my travel rucksack which I’d looped over one shoulder. My trunk and saddlebags had been set down near the door as well.

The sitting room was the neatest I’d seen it in a long time. I supposed the servants had done a thorough cleaning once the jarl had left on his journey.

A warm feeling of nostalgia and homesickness washed over me as my bare toes sank into the thick rug. Everything was so wonderfully, painfully familiar. I passed through the sitting room and into the study, which now included a little reading nook near the far window, alongside a bookshelf which held my own favorite titles, mostly poetry, folklore, and books on magic. The desk was clean, the drapes half drawn before all the windows, and nice-sized fires burned in all the fireplaces. Nevertheless, it felt… empty, its previous sole occupant evidently three days gone now.

Though I was mistaken on that last point. The apartment was hardly empty, for a soft trilling sound called my attention to the bedroom, but before I could even get there, my cat came trotting into the study, her fluffy tail in the air, eyes bright and dilated in excitement.

“Chomper!” I said, smiling and kneeling down, so I could stroke my fingers through her long, white fur and laugh as she rubbed so vigorously against my knee that she flopped over and exposed her soft belly.

I rubbed her there, laughing again as her purring intensified, her eyes squinting up at me. I had feared on some level that she wouldn’t remember me, but that certainly didn’t seem to be the case.

“I hope you were good while I was gone,” I said, rubbing her behind the ears now before transitioning to scratching beneath her chin. “You didn’t attack any important documents on his desk, did you? Or steal any of his socks? Or get your hair all over his clothes?”

She chirruped up at me before twisting and rolling around some more.

I grinned and gave her one last little scratch before rising back reluctantly to my feet and heading into the bedroom.

It was, of course, sitting on the bed, nestled between the pages of a book. I smiled a little as I sat down, picking up the book and running my fingers lightly over the fine, gold stitching of the title: _The Robber King and Other Tales: A Collection of Dunmeri Folktales_.

I set the book down after a moment and pulled the letter free, opening it and lying down absently on my stomach as I began to read:

_My heart,_

_I have tried not to imagine the look in your eyes when you first arrive in Windhelm and realize that our separation must continue. But I cannot go one day, one hour, without picturing your face in my mind’s eye, contemplating the softness of your skin, the spark in your eyes, the curve of your mouth. I ache to know that I will not be able to see you, to touch you, to hold you again for many more weeks._

_Nevertheless, you must promise me two things: One—you must not regret your decision to return to the college. I know that this has been difficult for both of us. But I am proud of you for choosing to do so, for dedicating yourself to your studies, and for having the courage to prioritize your own interests, your own needs—just this once. For too long, it has been I who has done all of the asking, and you, all of the giving._

_And two—you must promise not to give in to despair after reading this. I have asked Lia to extract that promise from you, and I have no doubt she already has. But perhaps you will be more inclined to keep your promise if I ask it of you as well. I know you are disappointed. But we will be together again soon. And I eagerly look forward to reminding you of the benefits of sharing a bed with me._

“Horny old bear,” I muttered, smiling.

_We have been through so much, little roebuck. We can get through this. Think of me tonight when you lie down upon our bed. I will be with you again, soon enough. Until then, you must imagine my hands stroking your skin, your cheek, your hair, my lips pressing a kiss against yours, my arms holding your body tight against my own, our hearts beating as one._

_I will be doing the same._

_Ulfric_

“Sweet Azura!” I said, rolling onto my back and briefly hugging the letter to my chest as I gazed earnestly up at the canopy above. My whole body felt flushed, and I was now trying very hard _not_ to imagine him doing all of those things to me. Which was about when I realized—I was finally alone. We’d been traveling for about a month, so of course I’d never really had a moment to myself, for Eleanor, Brelyna, and I had all slept three to a tent. So if I really wanted to…

My fingers curled absently over my stomach, where my free hand was resting, bunching up my tunic. I closed my eyes, then, and thought of my husband: of his touch, his kiss, the sound of his voice in my ear and his teeth nibbling gently against my skin…

A few minutes later, sated, still breathing heavily, and a bit wobbly on my feet—I’d had to get up and wash my hands, of course—I decided I might as well finish undressing and begin pouring my bath. I was tired, but my spirits had lifted, and I actually smiled as I thought of him penning that letter. He must have purchased the book some time ago and had intended to give it to me as a welcome home present. I sighed and leaned back against the edge of the tub, closing my eyes briefly, letting the hot, scented water soak into my skin.

I didn’t linger too long, not wanting the others to think that I was moping about by myself, all alone and drowning in my own tears. I washed quickly, happily scrubbing as much soap into my dirty, tangled hair as possible before leaning back and rinsing. Shaving was next, and I couldn’t help grimacing ruefully at my reflection—no wonder everyone laughed when I joked about someday growing a beard. Afterward, I stood up, drained the tub, and wrapped a robe around myself before padding back into the bedroom to dress.

I stood before the open wardrobe for a moment, gazing at it in equal parts awe and bewilderment. I suppose on some level I’d forgotten what it was like to have _so many clothes_. Several neat stacks of undertunics, tunics, and trousers—as if I needed the same brown shade of trousers in seven different pairs, not to mention the several other colors available to me. I never attended to any of this, by the way; clothes just seemed to show up in here without me saying anything about it. Presumably, _someone_ had been given my measurements, and considered it their personal goal in life to keep me continuously supplied with an overabundance of clothing. I got dressed, grabbing the first pair of trousers and tunic, for I was only eating with my friends and family tonight—I could save worrying about what sort of impression I would be making to the most important (and wealthiest) people in town tomorrow.

I paused to give Chomper a few more belly rubs before heading out of the apartment—having to pause to acknowledge the guard there who cheerfully welcomed me back home—and making my way down the hall and towards the jarl’s official dining room. Those gathered had already started eating, for Nords don’t stand on ceremony when it comes to enjoying their dinner.

“There you are!”

I had scarcely closed the door behind me before Una leapt to her feet and hurried towards me—or waddled, really, as she was about as pregnant as a person could be—and pulled me into a hug.

“Yes, hello,” I said, unable to not smile at the enthusiasm of her greeting. “I suppose I managed to make it back in mostly one piece.”

“We made sure he didn’t die on the way here,” said Eleanor, who was already seated, alongside Brelyna. “Though he had to be seriously convinced about it.”

“Right,” said Una, giving me a little smirk. “Uncle told us all about that—about you getting sick.” She gave my shoulder a playful slap. “Can you even imagine how unbearable he would’ve been to live with if you’d gone and let yourself die from a head cold? Ugh!”

“I’d tell you not to mind her,” said Hasan, smiling. “But you already know not to.”

“Emrik, come and see your Uncle Casien,” said Una, beckoning her little son to leave the comfort of his grandmother’s lap, something he was clearly reluctant to do.

“Hello, Emrik,” I said, smiling and kneeling down so I wasn’t towering over him. “You probably don’t remember me. You could barely walk the last time we saw each other.”

He looked at me for a long moment before pulling the fingers from his mouth and pointing up at me: “Keen?”

Una laughed.

“Yes, Emrik, that’s Uncle ‘Keen!’ He can’t quite say “Casien,” she said, though I’d rather figured as much myself. “We’ve been pointing to the portrait in the great hall and telling him that’s his Uncle Casien.”

I groaned.

“Not _that_ awful thing!”

“You have a _portrait_?” squeaked Brelyna.

“How in Oblivion did we miss _that_?” asked Eleanor, and I knew I was never going to hear the end of it from either of them now.

“It’s behind the throne in the great hall,” said Lia, a smile twitching at her lips. “Alongside the jarl’s. To this day I don’t quite know which of the two was more stubborn about sitting for the task. Ulfric insisted on working, and nearly bit the artist’s head off every time she bid him to please look up from whatever it was he was reading. And _this_ one fidgeted more than Emrik on a rainy day.”

“It was seriously the most awkward thing I’ve ever had to do,” I said, pulling a face at the memory. “ _Me_ , sitting for a portrait.”

“Ania told me the artist had the hardest time capturing his expression,” said Una. “Every time Uncle entered the room, his eyes would light up, and he’d have this goofy, love-struck look on his face. She didn’t think it was exactly the sort of look that ought to be preserved for posterity.”

“Aww,” cooed Brelyna, Eleanor beside her snorting into her napkin.

“Where is Ania?” I said, quickly taking a seat at the table and pointlessly willing the warmth to fade from my cheeks.

“I saw them only a little while ago,” piped up Nella.

As if on cue, Ania and Hellina finally entered the dining room—and, of course, there were renewed exclamations over my having returned, along with commiserations for my having just missed the king. Ania bid me to stand so she could grab me into a bear hug; it was so tight she quite lifted me off my feet, much to the amusement of Nella, Eleanor, and Brelyna (and Emrik, who seemed to think everything his boisterous aunt did was excessively hilarious). Hellina’s hug was gentler, though she held me tightly and pressed a kiss against my forehead afterward.

“Tell us all about your year away from us,” said Hellina. “The jarl was always so reticent to talk about the content of your letters.”

“He was embarrassed, you mean!” said Lia. “Poor, besotted fool of a man. It was like pulling teeth, getting him to talk about you.”

“I think he was sad,” said Hasan, leaning over to wipe Emrik’s face, which had somehow become absolutely covered in mashed sweet potato. “I should hate to be away from my beloved for such a lengthy amount of time.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Una, pretending to think. “I think I could bear it easily enough.”

She ducked and laughed when he flicked a pea at her.

“He said he was proud of me,” I said. “That I shouldn’t regret my decision to leave…”

I had spoken without thinking, seeing the words from his letter now in my mind’s eyes, imagining the hand that wrote it, the eyes narrowed in concentration. How much had he changed in a year? Had the gray in his beard crept to his temples yet? Did his eyes crinkle even more when he smiled? If only I could have seen him before he left—if only we had arrived only a little bit earlier!

“Now see here,” said Lia sternly, jogging me from my thoughts. “You made me a promise, young man.”

I blinked.

Then scowled.

“I’m not going to _cry_ ,” I said, snorts and laughter echoing all around at this haughty proclamation. “I just wish I could have arrived here in time to see him. And I’m sorry my absence made him sad, though it made me sad, too.”

“It was the right decision,” said Eleanor firmly, surprising me. “Professor Tolfdir said as much. “Your magicka was too strong for you to neglect further training much longer.”

“Well, I don’t know a thing about that magic business,” said Lia, “But I believe the absence did you both some good. It’s only a shame you had to miss one another so narrowly. It leaves a sting in the belly, I know. But you’ll be reunited before you know it, and we’ll all have to suffer those absurd looks of longing the pair of you throw at one another across the yard.”

“The worst part is having to hear Father complain about them every day,” said Ania, groaning. Nella patted her solemnly on the shoulder.

“Right,” I said, feeling more than a little bit huffy now. “I’d say I missed you all very much, but now I’m not so sure.”

This elicited the expected round of good-natured laughter, and soon enough my friends and family grew tired of teasing me and instead urged me, Brelyna, and Eleanor to regale them with tales from the college. I in turn begged to know what all I’d missed here in Windhelm—rolling my eyes as Una patted her swollen belly in an exaggerated fashion.

Not an hour later, I was struggling to keep my eyes open, and I noticed my two friends doing the same. We had been traveling since dawn, after all, and could no doubt feel our beds calling to us. My own feelings were rather bittersweet as I trudged back to the jarl’s apartment, barely acknowledging the salute from the guard stationed there. Chomper was there to greet me; nevertheless, the bed looked suddenly larger than it had ever looked before. I sighed, and shucked off my clothes before pulling on a pair of sleep pants and one of my husband’s old oversized undertunics. I’d gotten into the habit of sleeping fully clothed, as I could hardly have slept naked at the college, sharing a common room and washroom as I did with my fellow students.

It was no easy thing, but I forced myself _not_ to pick up his letter and read it again. Instead, I folded it and slipped it inside one of the bedside nightstand’s drawers. I then damped the fires and put out all the lamps save the one by the bed. Tired as I was, I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall immediately asleep, not with my feelings as suddenly low as they were, so I opened my new book and began to read, my cat curling up at my feet.

The sudden, unexpected knock on the outer door sent Chomper scurrying into one of her many hiding places. I frowned and sat up, wondering who in the world…? My heart beat a little bit faster, but I knew I had no reason to panic, for I was finally back at home—and folk who wish to come and murder you in the night probably don’t knock.

I pushed back the bedcovers and got to my feet, making my way back through the study and into the sitting room before opening the door.

Where I then stared into the beaming faces of two of my best friends.

“Surprise!” said Eleanor.

“I hope you weren’t sleeping!” said Brelyna.

They were both in their own night clothes, and each had a book under her arm and a blanket around her shoulders.

“Well, he’s not all red-eyed and blotchy-faced, so that’s a good sign,” said Eleanor.

I frowned and rolled my eyes.

“Why does _everyone_ keep expecting me to cry?”

“Oh, don’t be mad at us!” said Brelyna. “We just didn’t want you to be alone tonight.” She leaned in a little, clearly peeking past me. “Won’t you let us in?”

“Yeah, show us around this big fancy apartment of yours,” said Eleanor.

So I did, sighing as I closed the door to hide my true feelings that were already threatening to overwhelm me. I didn’t give them a proper tour after all, and only led them back to the bedroom, where we all three climbed onto the massive bed—my friends of course remarking on the size of both the bed and the room, not to mention the rich, dark wood furniture and the luxurious wall-to-wall rugs. I was by now trying very hard indeed to school my features and bite my lip against the smile of gratitude that was threatening to spread over my face. I honestly, really and truly _did_ have the best friends in the world.

We all lay there for a while, our books open, reading contently side-by-side and only occasionally making conversation. I don’t imagine either of my friends was surprised when I fell asleep first, or at least I’m assuming I did. The last thing I remember was listening to Brelyna mutter something she was reading under breath while staring idly at Eleanor’s toes, which were absently wiggling slowly back and forth. I imagined Chomper appearing out of nowhere and pouncing, and smiled… and before I knew it, imagination had turned to dreams, and I was fast asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I overslept, which was no surprise after my long journey. Nevertheless, even with the sun streaming in through the cracks in the drapes, my two friends were still sound asleep on either side of me.

I sat up and carefully crawled my way around Brelyna’s sleeping form before sliding off the bed. I stoked the fires and made use of the toilet before padding my way back through the study and sitting room, my stomach already rumbling at the anticipation of breakfast. The cooks at the college were no doubt very skilled, but they prepared food to be distributed and consumed in bulk. That happened here at the palace, too, but, well. A jarl, and his friends and family, could look forward to fare of a much higher standard.

In short, I had really, really missed bacon.

I opened the door to the apartment, sighing in happiness at the rolling cart of food and coffee that was waiting for me.

“Good morning,” I said to the guard stationed there as I started to pull the cart into the apartment.

“Morning, m’lord,” he replied. “Oh, Lady Lia said you’re to come and see her downstairs in the jarl’s office as soon as you’re awake.”

I paused, blinking up at him.

“As soon as I’m awake?”

“Oh, I’m sure she meant for you to enjoy your breakfast, m’lord,” he said, smiling kindly. “Get yourself dressed and all that. She just wanted me to relay the message for you to meet her, that’s all.”

I nodded my thanks before pulling the cart in the rest of the way and closing the door behind me.

I paused to set the little dish of cooked chicken pieces down for Chomper, who chirruped as she stood up and stretched, having evidently spent the night curled up on the couch. She normally slept near my pillow, but I supposed she’d deemed the bed a bit too crowded last night. As I wheeled the cart into the study—which, oddly enough, still lacked even the simplest breakfast table—I heard my two friends stirring and talking in the other room, so, rather than bid them to come to me, I simply wheeled the cart right into the bedroom.

“Ooo,” said Brelyna, smiling and rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Breakfast fit for a jarl!”

“Husband of a jarl,” I clarified, trying not to smile.

Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“Like it makes a difference? Besides, knowing that jarl of yours, he probably makes sure you eat even better than he does.”

That only served to dampen my mood, for it reminded me that the jarl wasn’t here. I tried to swallow my bitter feelings, though, and instead climbed back into the bed, setting the tray between us and removing the top. The delicious aroma of fresh-cooked bacon, hot cereal, and buttered toast filled our noses, and even more importantly, a steaming hot pot of coffee sat off to the side surrounded by three mugs.

“How did they know we were with you?” asked Brelyna, blinking at the cups and probably realizing that the amount of food on the tray was far more than one person could eat—or else someone downstairs was trying to seriously fatten up the king’s consort.

“Servants know everything,” I said, smiling a little as I filled my cup. “Someone comes in around dawn, for example, to tend the fires in each room before most people are even awake. We were always the first to know of any illicit liaisons taking place between guests. And the guards are everywhere, though most people don’t notice them. They definitely will have noticed _you_ two coming here last night, and word will have spread.” I shrugged. “Like I said: servants know everything.”

“I forget you were a servant sometimes,” said Eleanor, nibbling thoughtfully on a piece of toast. “It must be strange to go from servant to king’s consort.”

“I don’t know. Being a servant—you’re just doing your job. You don’t feel as if you’re less than anyone else, or at least I didn’t. I was paid pretty well, and the work wasn’t hard. Sometimes guests are rude to you, but they’d be just as rude to you if you were in a butcher’s shop or a blacksmith’s forge. And before I could get used to _not_ being a servant anymore, I was sent to the college.”

Eleanor arched a brow.

“Sent?”

“The jarl sent him there for his own safety,” said Brelyna anxiously, for she was a staunch supporter of my relationship, which she considered to be more romantic than anything she’d ever encountered in a novel. “It was proof of his love!”

I laughed.

“Yes, I mean—it wasn’t like he _forced_ me to go. I didn’t even know it was an option before he presented it to me. So of course I went. What else was I supposed to do? Stay here and pine away like some stupid character in a book until he came back?”

“Plus you needed to refine your magic!” she said. “You were always accidentally blowing things up that first year.”

“Speaking of ridiculously strong magic,” said Eleanor. “How’s Nelacar’s enchantment? Is it still holding up like he promised?”

I fingered my wedding ring without thinking, the gesture second nature by now. But lately, the metal was warm to the touch, the strangely comforting pulse of magic thrumming through it. It had been Nirya’s idea for me to have an object enchanted that could help focus and refine my wild magicka, but such a spell would require a master enchanter. Nelacar had found the idea intriguing, and had readily agreed to help me. The item he enchanted ought to be one that I kept with me at all times, he’d said. My wedding ring had seemed the most obvious candidate.

“I haven’t used it in a while,” I admitted. I held up my hand, pretending to concentrate as I ‘aimed’ at the space between my friends’ heads. “Want me to test it?”

“NO!” they both cried; I laughed, they smacked me with pillows, and I almost spilled my coffee.

We finished up our breakfasts, after which they wanted to be given a tour of the palace, maybe even Windhelm itself, for the first order of business for them would be to find a suitable location for the satellite college. But I had to tell them that I was to meet with Lia. I promised to meet up with them afterward, for though I had no idea what Lia wished to speak to me about, I couldn’t imagine it was regarding anything of great import, for the guard had seemed easy enough about it when he’d relayed the message.

I finished dressing and, after finishing off the rest of the coffee, began to head out. It was mid-morning now, and some of the apartment doors were open as I passed by. I heard Una calling after Emrik, and Jorleif’s wife saying something to one of the servants about the washing. I paused to see if anyone were watching before quickly slipping down a side hallway so I could take the servants’ stairs instead of the main stairs. I wasn’t technically supposed to do that, but I did so hate running into guests on the second floor, and the servants’ stairs would take me down to the jarl’s office just as quickly, if not more so.

Most of the servants didn’t even notice me as we passed one another, for apart from my fine clothing I’m sure I looked more like a servant myself than a lord. They all knew me, of course, at least those who had been working here for more than a year, but most were lost in their own tasks. Those who did notice me offered me a polite greeting, which I cheerfully returned. I always felt more comfortable talking to servants than rich people, even though I was now the latter, and the servants were still the former.

I knocked on the outer door to the jarl’s office before entering. Jorleif was already at his desk, shuffling sheets of scattered paper as he looked for some document or other.

He looked up, brightening when he saw me.

“Good morning, my lord! So nice to see your bright, young face roaming the halls of the palace again.” He frowned a little. “A pity you just managed to miss the jarl, though. He was terribly disappointed to have to leave without getting to see you.”

“I suppose it couldn’t be helped,” I said, smiling and trying to swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

“Yes, well, the duties of a king and all that. Well, you’ll certainly have your work cut out for you while he’s gone. Go on, then, Lady Lia’s waiting for you.”

His strange comment gave me a moment’s pause, but he was already looking back down at his desk, exclaiming softly under his breath when he evidently found the document he was looking for. I made my way past him, knocking on the inner door and waiting for Lia to bid me to enter.

She, too, was at her desk—or rather, the jarl’s desk—and looked up from whatever it was she was reading, giving a mild little start when she saw it was me.

“Oh, Casien,” she said, sighing and standing. “Of course you would knock.”

I closed the door behind me, frowning.

“Was I not supposed to?”

“Would the jarl knock before entering his own office?” She waved, gesturing me to come closer.

“I’m not the jarl,” I said, pointing out the obvious.

“No, but between the two of us, which of us is married to him? Sit right here, my child, not over there. Here, I shall pull up a chair beside you, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

The tiniest feeling of trepidation washed over me as I did as I was bidden, sitting down in the jarl’s chair behind the immense wooden desk. She set one of the other chairs beside my own and sat down, her hands absently smoothing the skirt of her dress as she did so.

“Why am I sitting in the king’s chair?” I asked, trying not to let on how uncomfortable it made me. Of course, I’d sat here before, but only when the king was sitting in it, too. So I guess it would have been fairer to say that I had sat on the king while he was sitting in his chair.

Or something to that nature.

“Because the jarl is away, and in his absence, you will need to assume many of his duties.”

“ME?!”

The word quite fell out of me, bouncing off the tip of my tongue and echoing against the stone walls of the office.

Lia’s lips twitched.

“Yes, my dear, you. Now, you needn’t fret yourself too much, though I realize that’s like asking you not to breathe. As I said, I will help you, and so will Ania, as well as Hellina, Una, and Hasan.”

“Ania,” I said breathlessly, swallowing. “She’s the heir, isn’t she? Isn’t this her job then?”

“In the event of the jarl’s death, yes, the heir would temporarily assume the throne until the moot could be called. But I’m sure we’re all hoping things won’t come to that.” She paused. “Nine’s providence, child, _must_ you turn so pale? I was quite obviously speaking in jest!”

“Sorry,” I said, trying to steady my breathing, and _not_ think about my husband dying in some foreign land.

“As I was saying, it is the duty of the jarl’s spouse to assume his place while he is gone. In the past, as Ulfric was not married, I have done my best to hold the fort, so to speak, while he and my husband were gone. But I am not the jarl’s spouse. You are.

“As for Ania, she has taken command of the garrison in her father’s absence, so you needn’t worry about that. I will help you respond to any letters the crown receives, though it must be your signature at the bottom of each reply. Budgetary issues we will discuss with Jorleif, and Una has shown herself to be quite adept in that department as well. We _will_ have guests on occasion, and no, no one expects you to entertain them yourself. Ania will be happy to be excused from dinner, and you can assume her place beside myself and Hellina.”

I clasped my hands and tried to take a deep breath. It was a lot to take in.

“I think I can do all of that,” I said.

“Of course you can. And I hope you maintain that positive attitude when you meet with your petitioners for the first time.”

I blinked. “Meet with my—who?”

“Petitioners. You are well aware, of course, that the king meets with petitioners an hour each day, assuming he has the time and energy for it. Traditionally, he has always done so in the morning, presumably to get it over with it, and I see no reason to change that. Though that leaves us very little time to prepare.”

Oh. Yes, I knew all about that, of course; every day, Morndas through Loredas, at 10 in the morning, he sat on his throne for one hour and listened to complaints, suggestions, and requests from the citizens of Eastmarch. It was usually mostly business owners complaining about this or that tax, but occasionally someone would come up from outside the city to report on a problem with livestock and a rogue pack of wolves, or an increase in bandits on the road. I had watched from the shadows once or twice while he did this, and thanked every god and goddess from both our lands that I would never have to endure such a thing.

As usual, the gods clearly hadn’t been listening.

“Will people accept being forced to air their grievances to _me_?” I asked, a flush of panic sweeping over me.

“And why not? You are the jarl’s husband. Any disrespect shown to you will result in a stint in the palace dungeons, so I would not feel too alarmed on that account.”

I swallowed. I hadn’t even considered that. Though you would think I would have, considering what had happened, or nearly happened, only yesterday as we were exiting the Gray Quarter.

“And as I said,” Lia continued, “I will sit beside you. My presence will no doubt relieve those who will have misgivings regarding your relative youth and inexperience.”

“And my race,” I muttered.

“Regardless, they must accept that you now rule in your husband’s stead, as decreed by the laws of this land.” She paused. “At least publicly, that is. I shall not allow you to blow our yearly budget by way of a miscalculation.”

“Or send us to war by accidentally saying the wrong thing at dinner.”

She smiled. “Now. Let us go over what we can expect to hear this morning, and the procedure for handling various complaints. Someone will inevitably complain about the new tax on leather goods. We should go over why the tax was implemented in the first place, who has been most affected, and who will _think_ themselves most affected and why.”

We spoke for nearly an hour, going over previous rulings both she and the king had made. We talked about rules of etiquette, how for reasons of safety, petitioners were not allowed within five feet of the stone steps leading up to the throne. I thought this was odd, considering how Nords valued military prowess in their jarls, but Lia pointed out that assassination was quite a different thing from proving oneself in honorable combat. The bravest and strongest of kings and queens can still be taken down by a sudden knife to the throat. I swallowed, and absently pulled at the collar of my tunic.

Afterward, she bid me to return upstairs and dress a bit more formally, and to place the circlet on my head, too. I did so, feeling almost silly as I made my way back downstairs—like a wayward child playing at being a prince. I did pass a few guests, who gave me startled looks before evidently catching sight of the circlet and sketching hasty bows. How could I _not_ feel ridiculous? People were bowing to me, and I was about to hear petitions from my fellow citizens, all because I was married to a man who happened to be a king.

Lia met me at the door to the throne room. She adjusted my circlet, brushed her fingers absently over the fine tunic I’d donned, and nodded. Then, together, we entered.

There was already a rather sizeable line of people gathered before the throne. Guards, if I recalled correctly, ushered them all into an antechamber so people wouldn’t have to stand out in the cold during winter months before allowing them to step into the main room, ten or so at a time, and situate themselves at the back of the line. I don’t know if anyone was surprised to see me of all people enter the room. I was too nervous, seeing only a sea of expectant faces, not unlike my first meeting with the Dunmer Business Leaders Association—only much, much worse.

I sat down in the king’s throne, which was ridiculously large as well as uncomfortable, considering it was carved out of pure stone. There was a cushion on the seat, but it did little to relieve my general discomfort. If I sat all the way back, my feet wouldn’t touch the ground, but if I sat too far forward, I’d have to almost slouch. The armrests were too high and too far apart—I really _did_ feel like a child playing at being a prince, or rather, an elf playing at being a jarl.

Finally, giving it all up as hopeless, I pulled my legs up and sat cross-legged, folding my hands in my lap.

One of the guards standing beside the throne glanced sideways at me and snorted before he could stop himself.

Lia gave me a withering look before nodding at the first petitioner.

“My lord,” said the man, stepping forward and nodding at me and Lia. “My lady.”

“Jorunn!” I said, brightening, for I recognized him. “How are you? How are your wife and children?”

Jorunn blinked, looking from me, to Lia, then back to me, before clearing his throat.

“They’re quite well, my lord. They’re, uh… you remember me?”

I smiled.

“Of course. Jorunn owns a leatherer’s shop with his wife in north Stone Quarter,” I said to Lia, who only arched her eyebrows at me. “I used to run deliveries for them… oh, years ago. Seven or eight years ago, at least! Oh!” I blinked. “You must be here about the tax.”

“As a matter of fact, I am, my… uh, my lord.”

“It isn’t very much though, is it? Up just by 2%, and your shop has always done well. Supposedly, we’re seeing a surplus in the market, and the extra funds the tax generates will go towards building the new school.”

“The new school!” He frowned. “Is that why they demolished that old building near the apothecary’s? It’s a bit of an eye sore.”

“I think so?” I glanced at Lia, who nodded. “The building wasn’t structurally sound anymore, so we had to take it down apparently. It’s going to cost a lot of money, which is why we’ve raised taxes on a few goods. I know Sadi and Eran must be quite grown now, but I think the city really does need another school.”

“Both grown and married, actually. But we’ve another little one, just made his appearance this past winter, in fact.”

I beamed, for I’d become unaccountably fond of children, and babies especially. I don’t know if that had anything to do with being married. At least I was still content to fawn over other people’s children instead of long for my own.

“Congratulations!” I said.  “Well, then, I guess you’ll be getting some use out of the new school in a few years.”

“It’ll be a lot closer to the shop than the other one,” he allowed, albeit grudgingly. “I suppose I can see the need for a new school, what with the city’s population expanding so much. Been awfully good for business, that has.” He looked at me. “Well, then. Guess the wife and I will have to be content with that and budget as best we can.”

“It _really_ is a very slight increase, Jorunn.”

He nodded. “Aye. Good day to you, then. Uh, my lord. My lady.”

The rest of the hour passed by more quickly than I would have imagined. I didn’t know _every_ petitioner, but I recognized some. There was Orthus Endario, for instance, who worked for the East Empire Company, and was concerned about some of the smaller fishing boats getting in the way of the large shipment vessels. There had apparently already been three accidents this year. Then there was Ulundil, who owned and operated a stable just outside the city walls; he wanted the city guards to expand their rounds, for he’d had two horses stolen this past month alone. Just as I had for Jorunn, I had once delivered goods and messages for them both, and they, too, were surprised that I remembered them. I chose not to remark upon the fact that Orthus used to call me “gray-skin,” and Ulundil used to leer and tell me to hurry back to the city, for I was far too ‘young and pretty’ to be wandering about by myself.

However, Windhelm was a large city, the capital of Eastmarch, and most of the petitioners I had never seen before. There were merchants complaining about taxes on goods and shipping, a daedric worshipper who complained about being harassed for handing out pamphlets, a blacksmith who said a guard had harassed her daughter but that nothing had been done about it. There were even some who’d come from outside the city; a group of farmers, for instance, had traveled half a day to ask for aid regarding an old bridge which had finally collapsed. They had no other means of moving their livestock without it, but they didn’t have the septums to repair it themselves.

Lia helped me respond to their concerns. She didn’t always sit silently beside me; she had instructed me to look to her when I was unsure, and this would be her signal to speak up if needed. She always phrased her responses in a way that purposefully made it seem as if the final decision were indeed entirely up to me. We had, of course, discussed this beforehand, and that was generally my cue to nod regally and throw my full support behind whatever she had recommended.

And, of course, there were those who had seen me take the throne and immediately turned away in disgust. I glanced anxiously at Lia, but her face remained passive. I supposed if they didn’t think their grievances were important enough to waste airing them on the jarl’s Dunmer spouse then they must not have been all that important to begin with.

Eventually, Jorleif arrived to inform me that it was now eleven o’clock in the morning, which meant the petitioners’ hour was over. I fretted, looking out at the line of people, which was still as long as ever. Lia caught my attention and tilted her head a little, a firm look on her face.

I sighed and stood up.

Lia did so as well, and together we descended the stone steps. A few of the petitioners called out anxiously, begging that I wait to hear them, just for a moment. I glanced anxiously over my shoulder, but Lia placed her hand firmly on my back and urged me to keep walking, so I did.

She gave me a little pat once we’d exited the room and made it back into the hallway.

“You did very well,” she said.

“But there were still so many people!” I said, for it made me feel awful that some had likely been waiting all morning to speak with us, and it had all now been for nothing.

“They may return to do so tomorrow. You would not like it, would you, if the king were forced to sit there for hours, responding to their concerns? He would still have to see to his other duties, and likely you would not see him crawling into bed until well after midnight.”

I frowned at the thought. It was not a pleasant mental image, particularly when we had so little time together as it was—and particularly now that I had not seen him in over a year.

“I suppose not,” I finally allowed.

“Good. And now we must decide which of these promises we just made to your petitioners can actually be kept.”

We returned to the jarl’s office, only this time we stayed outside of it to join Jorleif and Una for what was apparently a daily budgetary review. We sat around a large wooden table in Jorleif’s office, Una leaning back in her cushioned chair with her slightly swollen feet propped up on a stool, her notebook resting conveniently on her belly. We talked about which jobs to prioritize first; infrastructure jobs nearly always took priority over anything else, so the farmers would see their bridge repaired sooner rather than later. Una reported on plans, which I had been previously unaware of, to move some of the Argonians into the city proper. They had, as a community, voted for centralized housing within the Stone Quarter, as far away from the Gray Quarter as possible. I voiced my concerns that such an area could become a slum, or, more specifically, a sort of ghetto, but Jorleif assured me that what had once happened to the Gray Quarter would not happen to the Argonians’ new neighborhood. It would be guarded and maintained as faithfully as other parts of the city, and not be allowed to fall into disrepair as the Gray Quarter once had been.

The rest of my day proceeded in a similar fashion. I can say with confidence that I was never truly bored, but my brain felt exhausted, and I wanted nothing more than to return upstairs and curl up under the covers in my bed, but it wasn’t possible. The day seemed to quite simply refuse to end, and it was disconcerting to realize that it would surely repeat itself the following day, and the next, and the next. Even lunch was a working lunch; Ania and Hasan joined us to discuss any military and police keeping concerns, which included a need for uniform replacements; additional barracks; the hiring of another healer for the horses, for the current one had become taxed beyond her limits; and a problem with the nearby quarry that supplied most of the iron for our weapons and armor. After that, we met with any visiting dignitaries who had requested a private meeting with the crown—this time, a mayor and her wife from Kynesgrove, the patriarch of the local Shatter-Shield family, and a prominent wine merchant from the Rift who was looking to expand his business and buy land in Eastmarch.

Afterward, we returned to the jarl’s office to read and respond to the pile of letters which someone, presumably Jorleif, had left there on the desk. As much as I enjoyed reading, I was not much of a writer, and struggled to pen each of my responses. Of course, not a single line was written without Lia’s approval—something for which I was very, very grateful. Together, we made sure that my fumbling efforts did not, in fact, start another war with a neighboring hold or nation.

She also showed me the original letter that had arrived from King Alain of Farrun in High Rock. The language was flowery, the king’s signature even more so. The contents of the letter, however, were simple and direct, despite the purple prose. The king wished to meet with the High King of Skyrim. He proposed an alliance against the coming inevitable war against the Empire, and even suggested that his was not the only province in High Rock that would be willing to join such an alliance.

“He waited as long as he could,” she explained, smiling sadly at me as I gazed down at the letter in my hands. “He ought to have left as soon as he received the letter, but he insisted on waiting. I believe he even intended to bring you with him. King Alain is also lately married, and to a young man such as yourself—an elf, though I believe he is Bosmer. I approved of his intentions, for I suspected if you could make friends with this young man, it would smooth over relations between your respective husbands. I even overruled my own husband, who thought it far more prudent that they leave without delay.

“But then your letter came. Still, Ulfric insisted that they wait. But, finally, I had to agree with Galmar that we risked offending King Alain by delaying their trip for so long.”

And so because of some seemingly trifling little illness, I missed not only seeing my husband but also traveling with him to a new country. I tried not to feel too depressed at such a doubly missed opportunity. Other than leaving Solstheim to come to Skyrim, I had never visited a foreign land before. I spent my days reading about other cultures, religions, and societies, yet had never truly had the chance to experience them.

“Only think how _proud_ he shall be of you,” said Lia, shaking me from my thoughts. “When he comes home and sees how hard and steadily you have been working. This life the gods have blessed us with may have its perks, but it has its burdens as well. I know he has been aggrieved that you should suffer or be unhappy once you two were married.”

I sighed.

“And I guess I never really thought about how truly hard he works until today,” I admitted.

“We all work hard, my dear. It’s the little things in life that make it all worthwhile. Now go upstairs and rest for a bit; I shall come and fetch you in about half an hour for dinner.”

The king’s chair remained empty at dinner that night, much to my relief—I had been almost terrified at the thought of being forced to assume his place at the head. But I sat to its left, Lia to its right, and Hellina beside her. They did most of the small talking with the guests, and I only occasionally chimed in, as was my wont. But I spoke even less than usual, for I was exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy to try and find Brelyna and Eleanor afterward; I simply trudged back up to my room and crawled into bed with Chomper. I fell asleep with my half my clothes still on.

The next few weeks proceeded in much the same fashion. Some days were even busier than the first, some, less so. On nights when the palace wasn’t hosting any guests of note, I had dinner with Lia and the others or sometimes alone in my room, though the others were terribly anxious about letting me be by myself for any great length of time. And I understood why. I was still deeply depressed about having missed the king, and each passing day increased my anxiety that something had happened to him, however unlikely.

Brelyna and Eleanor’s efforts to establish a satellite college moved at a slower pace than anticipated since I wasn’t able to help them as much as I would have wanted. In one particularly awkward meeting, they had to ask for an appointment with me in the jarl’s office and discuss the location they had chosen. I knew the jarl liked things like this to take place aboveboard, so to speak, and be recorded in the books, no matter how personal our relationships may have happened to be. They’d settled on an area outside the actual city, which I thought was a good idea, but that meant it would cost more money, as it would lack the security of the city’s high walls, and thus would need to be doubly fortified against the weather and against bandits. I wasn’t quite sure how the funding was supposed to be handled, for the jarl was meant to be here for this discussion, so ultimately, we decided to put it on hold for now.

That evening, I was not required to attend dinner downstairs and thus chose to do so in my rooms, though I invited Eleanor and Brelyna to join me. But it was only Eleanor who showed up at my door, a slightly pinched look on her pale face.

“Where’s Brelyna?” I asked, surprised.

“Out,” came the flat reply.

“Out?”

We both sat down on one of the plush sofas in the sitting room; I pulled the dinner cart over and began fixing my plate, glancing at her curiously.

“Yes, _out_. What do you think that means? She’s young, cute, pretty—of _course_ all the Windhelm boys are fawning over her.”

I blinked, lowering the bright, red apple I’d been about to bite into.

“You mean she’s on a _date_?”

“With one of the palace guards, I think. She was giggling about it over lunch today. She’s had a new fellow every month, you know, or didn’t you notice? I guess you were too busy cramming into the wee hours of the morning.”

“I didn’t cram that much,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I just knew I was only going to be there for a year. So.” I bit down on the apple, chewing and washing it down with some beer. “I’m going to point something out, but I hope you don’t get mad about it.”

She glared at me. Which didn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence.

“What?”

I cleared my throat.

“Nothing, it’s just—you seem awfully bitter about Brelyna going on a date.”

Instead of snapping back at me—which was what I expected—she slumped back against the couch with a sigh.

She was silent for a moment, then: “It’s that obvious, is it?”

I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Whereas I tended to wear my emotions on my sleeve (or so my friends were always claiming), this was usually on account of whatever depressive or anxiety-ridden situation I was dealing with. But Eleanor was different. Whether she was frightened, upset, or hurt, she was good at keeping a calm face. The fact that she was letting _whatever_ this was get to her—well, it spoke volumes.

Plus, I kind of had an inkling as to why she was so upset.

“I don’t know about it being obvious,” I finally said, picking up a fork and carefully cutting into my generous piece of pie—I don’t know how the kitchens always knew to send me an extra large piece of pie, but somehow they did. “Maybe I’m just really good at piecing two and two together. Like, maybe seeing your friend having a good time dating makes you think about… well, your own dating life.”

“Or lack thereof,” she said, sighing again. “Are we _really_ going to talk about this?”

“Only if you want to,” I said.

I thought that would likely be an end to it. This thing between her and Hanna had been going on since before we left Winterhold. I had never explicitly asked Eleanor what had happened, and when I’d tried to broach the subject with Hanna, she’d only shrugged and said it was over and done with. Funnily enough, _I_ was the one who’d felt like crying when she’d told me that; my friends had been together almost since I’d known them.

So all I really knew was what Brelyna had told me: that Hanna had asked Eleanor to marry her. And Eleanor had refused.

And now they weren’t together anymore.

“…Maybe.”

I looked up from my plate in shock.

“You do?” I asked, swallowing my piece of pie quickly. “I mean, you do want to talk about it? Really?”

She scowled.

“Don’t act so surprised; it only makes me feel worse. _Yes_ , I want to talk about it. I mean, you’ve got like this ridiculously successful, perfect relationship. As clueless as you are about everything else, you seem to know _something_ about that sort of thing.”

“Wow,” I said. “Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, it’s just—I see how you are about that king of yours. How he’s your whole world, how you’re just—I don’t mean this in a bad way, honestly. But you just seem _obsessed_ with him. Like nothing else matters as much to you as he does. Not your work, not your studies, nothing. And I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to _become_ that. I don’t want to—to just totally lose myself in another person.”

She was quiet for a moment before adding, “And she was the first person I ever—you know. Maybe you shouldn’t be so wrapped up in your first. Maybe you’re supposed to go out there and experience things with like, other people.”

“Do you _want_ to ‘experience things’ with other people?” I asked.

She frowned. “No. I don’t know.”

I had to consciously hold my tongue for a moment, and force myself to gather my thoughts. I loved both my friends and wanted them to be together—to be _happy_ together. But I couldn’t let my own wishes overrule theirs.

It was tough.

“I think ‘obsessed’ might be a bit too strong,” I said.

Eleanor’s eyes widened.

“Oh Nine, I _knew_ I’d shoved my foot right up my mouth! I didn’t—

“No, no, it’s okay!” I said, waving my hands at her and actually smiling, because, honestly, it _was_ kind of funny. And kind of true. “I’m not offended or anything. It’s more like I think you might be reading our relationship a bit wrong. And maybe it’s coloring how you see your own.”

I paused, trying to figure out how to put my thoughts into words.

“The thing is, the king… Ulfric and I, our relationship… it’s _ours_ ,” I said. “What we are to each other, it’s just… how we are. It’s how we work. When I’m apart from him, I feel like I can’t breathe.” I blinked, half-surprised by my own admission. I had to swallow and inhale, as if forcefully drawing the air back into my lungs. “And I know he feels the same way. It’s just how we are. That doesn’t mean we can’t be separated from one another. It’s hard, but we can do it. Obviously.”

“This year was hard on you,” she said, her voice quiet.

I nodded.

“Yes, but… that’s just how it is with me and him. It’s always been that way. Even before we were together, I’d feel miserable if I didn’t see him that day. I’d get depressed, I’d pull the bedcovers over my head at night and shut my eyes and try to convince myself he didn’t care for me, not one bit, because I thought it would hurt less that way.

“But the thing is, just because _we’re_ that way doesn’t mean _you_ have to be. I mean, honestly, Eleanor. The king and I aren’t the _only_ happy and successful couple you know.”

She looked mildly sulky at having this pointed out, but then she sighed.

“I guess that’s true.”

“And if it’s because we’re married, and, say, Onmund and Nirya aren’t—well, everybody goes about things differently. They obviously don’t need it. But I did. I was scared at first, but I wanted it, if it was with him. And I know you’ve just met them all, but Ania and Hellina, and Una and Hasan—not to mention their parents—they’re the same way. And I don’t think any of them has lost themselves in their partner.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Every couple is different. So what you’re saying is, I was being way too dramatic when I freaked out just because she wanted to get married.”

She went a little pink at the mention of marriage, and I couldn’t help smiling a little.

“Not ‘dramatic’, necessarily. I think it was a pretty normal reaction. And Hanna’s just Hanna. It probably took a lot for her to finally propose. So now she’s hurt and upset, which for Hanna means she shuts down and growls at everyone just for looking at her.”

Eleanor’s lips quirked, presumably as she thought about her ex-girlfriend’s snarly face.

“You think I should talk to her?” she asked, her voice small.

I shrugged. “I think it couldn’t hurt.”

Just then there was a knock at the door, startling us both. I thought it might be Brelyna; perhaps her date had gone sour. Hopefully Eleanor wouldn’t gloat _too_ much, I thought with a sigh as I stood up and went to answer the door.

Only it wasn’t Brelyna after all.

It was Lia.

Her face was pale and pinched, and her chest was heaving ever so slightly, whether from physical or emotional exertion, I couldn’t say. She stared at me, her eyes locking with mine, before silently holding up a piece of parchment.

It was a letter.

I took it, unfolding it with already shaking hands.

_To his Distraction,_

_The party’s gone off, not quite what everyone said it would be, and that husband of yours is taken in with the wrong crowd. You should be here. Come alone. Bring my eldest if you must. Leave immediately. Meet me at North Storm’s End._

It was unsigned.


	4. Chapter 4

There was only one person who had ever referred to me as a _distraction_.

“Galmar!” I said, my lungs closing in as I said the name.

Lia nodded grimly.

“Yes,” she said. “It was unmarked and came by bird.”

I scanned the letter again, my heart still leaping about in my chest.

“ ‘The party’s gone off…’ ‘Taken in with the wrong crowd…’.” I shook my head, but my thoughts were all too frantic. “What does it mean? I don’t understand!”

She reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder, startling me. I looked up, our eyes meeting.

“Wait here,” she said. “Try to remain calm. I will gather the others.”

She paused, glancing past me at my friend, who no doubt was looking very nervous and confused at present. I noticed, and steeled myself.

“Eleanor can stay,” I said, feeling a knot of anxiety attempt to thoroughly wedge itself into my throat. “She’s my friend.”

I expected Lia to argue, but she nodded, almost deferentially, and stepped back out, closing the door between us.

I sank back down onto the couch. Eleanor took the letter from my limp fingers, hastily reading it, murmuring the words under her breath as she did.

“He obviously doesn’t want anyone to know he’s the sender,” she said. “And he doesn’t want anyone to know who’s receiving it, either. So he’s being watched, or _thinks_ he’s being watched.”

I lowered my face into my hands, squeezing my eyes shut.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I said, the words getting half-caught in my throat. “They were just—supposed to—”

I flinched suddenly, feeling the light touch of my friend’s hand on my shoulder. I lifted my head again, curling my fingers up in front of my mouth as I stared at her. It felt like the room was slowly spinning; I blinked, but I couldn’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.

“Hey,” she said, her voice unusually gentle. She scooted closer to me on the couch, her hand on my shoulder squeezing slightly. “Lia’s right. You need to try to remain calm. You can’t help them if you’re like this.”

I stared at her for a moment before nodding and closing my eyes briefly, taking a long, shuddering breath. My heart was still rattling about behind my ribcage, but I forced myself nevertheless to take slow, even breaths. If I let myself panic and act the fool, I’d be useless—nothing but a _distraction_ , as Galmar would have once said.

A few minutes later, there was a short knock at the door again, and I bid them to enter. In came Lia, bringing with her this time her two eldest daughters and their spouses. I was surprised to see Nella as well, though I had to remind myself that she was 18 years old now and considered an adult. Still—she held her mother’s hand, her face pale as she, her sisters, and brother- and sister-in-law all sat down.

“May I see the letter?” asked Una, holding out her hand.

She looked and sounded as calm as ever, but I knew she had to be frightened by the news. Not that her father and uncle hadn’t been in difficult situations before, but still.

Eleanor handed it to her, and Hellina bid her to read it aloud so that they could all hear. I closed my eyes and took a deep, steadying breath as I listened. I felt Eleanor take and squeeze my hand.

“I don’t understand a word of it,” said Ania. “Who’s ‘the wrong crowd,’ anyway? Father isn’t talking any sense.”

“If it even _is_ your father,” pointed out Hasan.

“It’s him,” I said.

They all turned to look at me, and I swallowed.

“He’s the only one who calls me that,” I said. “Ulfric’s distraction.”

Una blinked.

“Oh. That’s right. I’d forgotten he used to call you that.”

Ania gave a little snort.

“Sorry,” she said, when everyone looked at her. “I was just remembering. Uncle was always mooning about, and it drove Father up the wall. He was always grumbling about Uncle’s little _distraction_.”

“That’s not a very polite way to refer to Uncle Casien,” said Nella, frowning.

“When have you ever known Father to be polite,” said Una wryly.

“All right,” said Lia, “Let’s try to stay focused, girls. Una, what do you think?”

Una looked down at the letter again, frowning.

“Well, _the wrong crowd_ is obviously an enemy of some sort.” She sighed. “If I had to guess, I’d say Uncle’s in a tight spot, and Father is trying to warn us about it.”

“Warn Casien,” said Hasan. “He addressed the letter specifically to him.”

“He said I could come,” said Ania. “Not that I need his permission because of course I’m coming. I’m not letting Casien run off on his own.”

“But where are they _going_?” asked Nella.

“Somewhere in High Rock?” Eleanor said, and I could tell from the way the others all looked at her that they’d nearly forgotten she was still here. “Maybe King Alain lured them there under false pretenses.”

“But that would be starting a war with all of Skyrim,” said Hasan, frowning. “And if General Galmar managed to evade capture and send this letter, why is he being so secretive?”

“Give me the letter,” said Lia.

Una did so, and her mother began to read it aloud again, though this time pausing at each line.

“‘The party’s gone off.’ We can assume that the mission was not a success, though that in itself does not implicate King Alain. ‘Not quite what everyone said it would be’—

“More of the same,” said Una. “We thought it would be one thing, but it turns out it isn’t. King Alain’s offer wasn’t what it seemed to be.”

Lia nodded before continuing.

“…‘Taken in with the wrong crowd’.”

“Kidnapped,” said Nella, her eyes widening.

I felt my heart pound briefly harder before dropping down somewhere into the vicinity of my stomach. I don’t know why I hadn’t considered that. After all, if the jarl were at liberty to write the letter himself, why hadn’t he? No, something had definitely happened to him. And it had fallen to Galmar to write to me and try to explain what had happened as obliquely as possible.

“…get him some water,” I heard someone—Lia—command. A moment later, a cool glass of water was being pressed into my hand. I blinked and looked down at it before looking up into Hellina’s kind face. She smiled, and nodded towards the glass in my hand.

I drank, and swallowed—took yet another deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m fine, I just—

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” said Lia, somehow managing to sound both stern and warm at the same time. “This is difficult, I know. But we will figure out what we must do and then we shall do it.”

“Let’s continue going through the letter,” said Ania.

Her mother nodded.

“‘You should be here’,” she read. “‘Come alone’—that part seems obvious, though _why_ remains to be seen. ‘Bring my eldest if you must’.”

“That means me,” said Ania.

“Figured that part out, did you,” said Una, rolling her eyes. Ania made a face at her.

“‘Leave immediately’,” continued Lia. “We can assume the situation, therefore, is urgent. ‘Meet me at North Storm’s End’.”

“And where is North Storm’s End?” asked Hellina, her brow furrowing slightly.

“I haven’t the faintest clue,” said Hasan. “I’ve never stepped foot in High Rock.”

It was then that I realized, of course, that there was one among us who _had_. In fact, she had been born there.

I looked at Eleanor. But I didn’t even have to put the question to her because she just shook her head.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve never heard of North Storm’s End. And I’ve only been to Farrun once. Our ship stopped there to restock and pick up more passengers on the way to Winterhold. Well, technically on the way to Solitude, since that was the next stop.”

I frowned and sat back against the cushions of the couch, crossing my arms over my chest. While the others spoke lowly amongst themselves, continuing to puzzle over the contents of the letter, I let myself muse over those final three words. There was just something about them that seemed… familiar. I tried to envision various maps and timelines in my head, things I’d encountered in various histories and political treatises, but nothing came to mind.

Then, for some reason, I thought of the book Ulfric had left for me. He loved to leave me little gifts like that, and, knowing my scholarly proclivities, a gift from him was more often than not some curious or beloved title he’d heard me talking about. Of course, the very first book he’d ever gifted me with had been a collection of poems. We hadn’t even been together at the time, though I knew now that he had yet been deeply in love with me—and I, him, if I’m honest with myself.

I stood up suddenly, my eyes widening.

“What?” asked Eleanor, gazing up at me in alarm. “What is it?”

“Oh, Nine,” said Una. “I think he’s going to be ill.”

I ignored them. Instead, I dashed out of the room, hurrying through the study and over to the little side alcove, which my cozy little reading nook now occupied. I bypassed the chair and crouched down, running my fingers over the spines of the books on the lowest shelf. When I found the one I wanted, I pulled it free— _The Collected Poems of Bjald Song-Smith._

Quickly, I leafed through the pages until I came to the poem I was thinking of.

I stared down at it, my breath catching in my throat, before slowly rising to my feet.

“And so we set our weary gaze, to pierce the muffled horizon,” I read aloud, as I made my way back to the sitting room. “At long last, our sun-kissed hearts returning home to storm’s end…”

I looked up from the book and met the confused, anxious faces of my friends and family.

“Storm’s End!” said Nella, the first to catch on.

I nodded, and turned the open book so that it faced them, my finger tapping at the poem’s title: ‘The Lighthouse.’

Una frowned.

“So Storm’s End is a lighthouse. But which one?”

“Not just ‘Storm’s End’,” said Eleanor slowly. “ _North_ Storm’s End. A northern lighthouse. And Farrun is the northern most province in High Rock.”

“Do you remember a lighthouse?” I asked, trying not to acknowledge the little flutter of hope in my chest.

She nodded.

“I do. In fact, I think there’s only one. It’s at the very tip of the peninsula, if I recall correctly, a little to the east of Farrun. The shoreline there looked very rocky and dangerous, and I suppose that’s what a lighthouse does, right? Ward off ships from dangerous shorelines?”

“North Storm’s End,” I said, gazing back at her.

She smiled.

“The northern lighthouse.”

“But wait,” said Ania. “How would Father know about some poem in a book? I don’t think he’s picked up a book since his school days.”

“A slight exaggeration,” said Lia dryly. “But yes, I cannot imagine your father referencing such a thing. We can only suppose that Ulfric was with him when he wrote the letter.”

“But if the king were present, why didn’t he write the letter himself?” asked Hasan, voicing what I was already thinking.

Ania shrugged.

“Maybe he couldn’t? Maybe he was only able to tell Galmar that bit about the lighthouse before they took him away. Whoever the hell ‘they’ even are.”

That actually sounded like the most likely scenario. Ulfric would have directed Galmar to write to me, and he would have given him something, some tidbit of information, that only I would understand. And Galmar, whether he approved or not, would do it. Because Galmar always obeyed his jarl, whether he agreed with his orders or not.

I took a deep breath.

“All right,” I said, startling the others into silence.

I looked at them all.

“I’ll go. I’ll travel by boat to Farrun, and I’ll look for the lighthouse.”

“You’re certainly not going alone,” said Ania. “I’m coming with you.”

I nodded, for I’d expected as much.

“I’m going as well,” said Hasan, much to his wife’s consternation.

“Me, too!” said Nella.

“You most certainly are _not_ ,” said her mother sternly.

“Are you out of your mind?” said Una, gazing at her husband in total shock. “You can’t leave me right now! The baby will be here before the end of the month!”

A minor series of arguments broke out, then, Hasan trying to reason with Una, whose objections were totally understandable, while Nella insisted to her mother that she was as good of a warrior as her sisters were at her age, and that if Ania had the honor of rescuing their father and uncle, then so should she. Only Eleanor remained silent, though I could tell that brain of hers was running a mile a minute, judging from the expression on her pale face alone.

As for myself, I felt suddenly, inextricably exhausted. The thought of having to do all of this—to journey to an unknown land, to search for my husband, knowing presently absolutely nothing about what had happened to him—it made me want to curl into a ball and hide myself away from everything and everyone. But I couldn’t do that. I was no longer the spoiled and cherished lover of the jarl. I was the king’s consort.

Lia seemed to pick up on my thoughts. She stood up and abruptly called an end to the discussion, ordering everyone back to their beds. No one would be leaving until tomorrow morning at the earliest, she said. Hasan and Ania both protested, but their protests fell on deaf ears.

Once they were all gone, she came and sat beside me. I tried not to sigh heavily.

“I suspect you know what I am going to say,” she said, and truly, she looked nearly as tired as I felt.

“That I’m the husband of the jarl,” I said. “And that I should act like it.”

She smiled, a bit sadly.

“In a manner of speaking.” She took my hand, surprising me, and gave it a light squeeze. “You are the ranking member of this household, _Lord_ Casien Yedlin. It will fall to you to lead this venture, and it will fall to you to decide who will accompany you on it.”

I blinked.

“Me?”

“You. You are everything that Ulfric believes you to be: wise, cunning, and good. Come morning, you will make the right decision. And we will abide by that decision, whatever it may be.”

I sat back, not a little overwhelmed by the responsibility which had been settled upon my shoulders. Only it wasn’t as if she’d put it there herself. _I_ had, the moment I’d allowed my husband to put his ring on my finger, and we’d both turned to the priest of Mara and said ‘I do.’

“Get some rest,” she said, giving my shoulder a little pat. “I’ll have a servant bring you up something to drink that will help you sleep. And Casien—there is one more thing.”

I looked up, our eyes meeting again.

“With both you and Ania gone—Windhelm could potentially be without its king, its king’s consort, and its heir. You will need to designate a second heir before you go.”

I gaped at her.

“How in Oblivion am I supposed to decide that?!”

“You needn’t overthink it, child. It will only be a precaution. Jorleif will draw the document up quickly, and we can all put it out of our heads as soon as it’s done. I’ve little doubt that before long you will be returning back home with both our jarl and our heir.”

“And your husband,” I said.

She blinked, swallowed, and smiled.

“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding ever so slightly rough around the edges. “Of course.”

She stood and bid me good night then. True to her word, a servant knocked about 15 minutes later and handed me a cup of tea. I didn’t drink it immediately. Instead, I sat down in my cozy chair and scratched Chomper under her chin and around her ears. It was hard to believe that only about an hour ago, I’d thought the most pressing matter in my life had been my friend’s rocky relationship with her girlfriend.

Who would I bring on the journey? Ania was a clear given, but beyond that, I didn’t know where to even start. Did I deny Hasan’s wishes and force him to remain home when honor and love likely demanded that he accompany us on the search for his king and father-in-law? Did I turn to some of my other friends, Ysme or Hanna, and ask them to accompany me on such a dangerous, uncertain journey? Should I ask Brelyna, a fellow mage, to risk her life and join me as well?

Or perhaps I ought to simply take Galmar’s words to heart: Bring no one but myself—save his eldest, if I truly must.

In the end, I drank my tea and prepared for bed, all of these questions still swimming around in my brain. I wished fervently that I had the same faith in myself that Lia, Ulfric, and all the others always seemed to have in me. I pulled Chomper under the covers with me and stroked her until I could feel my eyelids growing unnaturally heavy. Sleep soon took me, however unwillingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive this necessarily short, transitional chapter! My, things certainly are moving along at a faster pace than last time...


	5. Chapter 5

The tea worked as expected, and I slept deeply, and didn’t wake until morning was half over. I wasn’t angry about this, for I had anticipated it—and I knew it would probably be the last time I received a good night’s sleep for a very long time.

My mind felt clearer as I made my way through my morning routine. I bathed quickly before pulling on some clothes, selecting those made from the sturdiest fabrics. I pulled on a gambeson, too, and buckled on my sword belt before pulling on my boots.

“Lady Lia’s in the dining room, my lord,” said the guard at the door, and I nodded and made my way there.

They were all gathered there, talking quietly amongst themselves, the remains of their breakfast scattered about the table. One full plate remained. I sat down before it, expecting the coffee beside the plate to be cold, but it wasn’t. I closed my eyes briefly as I sipped, the sharp taste settling on my tongue.

When I opened my eyes, they were all looking expectantly at me.

I set my cup down, and took a deep breath.

“Myself,” I said, meeting each of their eyes. “Ania. Hasan. And—if she agrees—Eleanor.”

There was a soft, repressed little whimper, and I looked at Una, who had her hand over her mouth. But then she lowered it, her eyes locking briefly with mine. She seemed to breathe in, and nod. I nodded back. Beside her, Hasan took her hand, and squeezed it.

“…Me?”

I looked at Eleanor, and smiled a bit weakly.

“You don’t have to come, obviously. But you’re the only Breton here, and the only one from High Rock. You know the culture, and the land, the people—

“I’m from Wayrest,” she said. “That’s in Stormhaven, far to the south. Like I said, I’ve never been to Farrun.”

I nodded. It wasn’t unexpected that she would refuse. This wasn’t her fight, and she was no warrior. It would’ve been wrong for me to try and beg her to come with me, for all I so desperately wanted one of my closest friends to accompany me.

“But…”

I looked up again, surprised.

She smiled.

“But you’re right,” she continued. “I’m the only Breton here. Of course I’ll come with you.”

“Are you sure?” asked Brelyna, wringing her hands together as she looked at the two of us. “It’s going to be really dangerous, I’m sure! and—and you’re not a mage, and—!

“We’ll look after your friend,” said Hasan firmly.

“We’ll look after both of them,” said Ania.

Hellina, sitting next to me, briefly put an arm around me and squeezed my shoulders. I met her eyes and managed a smile.

“Our next question needs to be _how_ ,” said Hasan. “It’s clear the general felt he was being watched, and it’s possible we may be, too. So how do we leave the city without anyone noticing?”

“I have an idea about that,” I said.

That idea involved a friend whose father had once been a somewhat infamous pirate from Hammerfell before settling down in Windhelm and siring a whole brood of sturdy half-Nord children. His eldest was now one of my dearest friends, and though we hadn’t spoken much since I’d been back, I knew I could trust her—she was someone I knew I could _always_ rely on, without question or hesitation.

“Aye, he used to be quite the swashbuckler,” said Ysme, now straddling the chair beside mine. She’d been fetched from the yard, where she’d fortunately been training a few new recruits—I’d worried she might have been out on patrol. “But that’s thirty years gone now. He’s a law-abiding citizen of Skyrim now!”

“I’m sure he is,” I said, trying not to smile over how anxious she was to defend her father. “But surely he must have some old contacts. Or at least an idea on how to smuggle four people out of a city like Windhelm.”

She gave me a long look, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“I suppose if it were anyone but you, Sir Elf. But aye, I’ll ask him and bring him back here, straight away. He wasn’t always so law-abiding, I’ll admit, and there’s always folks what need ferreting out when times get rough.”

“What do you mean?” asked Brelyna, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Why else would a person need to leave the city in such secrecy?”

“Tax evasion?” suggested Eleanor, shrugging.

Ysme laughed.

“Sure, little bird. Tax evasion.”

“Are you sure this is wise?” asked Lia, once Ysme left. “I don’t doubt her loyalty to her jarl, and she seems to care a great deal for you, but—

“I trust her,” I said. “Utterly. And there’s no one— _no one_ —more loyal to Ulfric.”

“All right,” said Hasan. “If you trust her, then so do we. But now her father will know of our plans. Can we trust _him_?”

“I doubt her father’s secretly working for the enemy, whoever _that_ may be,” said Una. “And if we’re going to ask Casien to be in charge of this little venture, maybe we shouldn’t constantly question his decisions.”

“No,” I said quickly, “It’s all right. _Please_ keep questioning me. But the fact remains that we need to get out of the city as quickly and quietly as possible. If any of you has any other suggestions—if you know of any _other_ ex-pirates or smugglers—I’m all ears.”

“Questioning the jarl or his stand-in is what advisors are for,” said Lia. “We as your advisors can disagree, can suggest alternate points of view, but ultimately we abide by your decision.” She paused before adding, “And for what it’s worth, you’re doing well.” She looked at her children and their spouses, as well as my friends. “You all are. Disagreement is expected, but so is support. So long as we support one another, and maintain respect for the chain of command, we should do fine.”

“I still think it’s ridiculous to place _me_ of all people at the top of the chain,” I said, sighing. “First thing’s first, once we get back: rewrite the laws of succession.”

“I’m sure the jarl will have something to say about that,” said Lia, sounding amused.

True to her word, only a little more than half an hour had passed before Ysme returned promptly with her father. He was an older man, but his form was not stooped with age, for all his hair and beard had turned a wiry gray, black age spots covering a face made leathery by the sun. He was tall, and bore himself like a seaman—I knew the type, having grown up near the sea myself—proud, and with the barest hint of a swagger.

“My lords,” he said, nodding to us all. “My ladies. My daughter says you wish to speak with me.”

Ysme stood at his side, her arms crossed over her chest. She was watching me with slightly narrowed eyes. I knew how protective she was over her family, so her wariness wasn’t unexpected.

“Yes,” I said, since the others were all apparently waiting for me to speak first. “Please, take a seat, Captain…?”

“Cyrus. Though it’s been many years since I’ve been called ‘Captain’.”

I nodded, glancing briefly at his daughter.

“Has Ysme told you why we needed to speak with you?”

“She said the folk up at the big house wished to see me and might even have need of my services. I asked her what those services might be, seeing as how I’m a retired old man who spends his days playing with his grandchildren, but she wouldn’t say.”

I exchanged a look with Lia, then, trying very hard not to reveal how vindicated in my defense of Ysme this made me feel, for it was clear that she had refused to share the sensitive details of our situation even with her father. Lia only pressed her lips together and nodded subtly back at Cyrus.

I took a deep breath.

“You see…” I hesitated, not quite sure how to put this without sounding too… well, not _crass_ , but the man had been a _pirate_ after all. “My husband needs me. So we need to leave the city. Four of us. But…”

“But you don’t want anyone else to know you’ve left,” he said. His expression had turned shrewd, and were he not the father of one of my dearest friends, I might have been almost intimidated.

“Something like that,” I finished lamely.

“It’s a matter of national security,” said Hasan. “If you love your country—

“Is that in question?” asked Cyrus.

“No!” I said quickly. “The opposite, in fact. I’ve known Ysme for…” I paused, counting in my head. “…over five years now. I don’t know _any_ one more loyal to Ulfric and to Skyrim. That’s why I asked her here, and why I’ve asked you here—to help us, if you can.”

He narrowed his eyes at me again, though this time the expression seemed more thoughtful than anything. He leaned back in his chair, his hand coming up to stroke through his heavy gray beard.

“I may have heard my girl talk about the jarl’s little elf a time or two,” he said, glancing at his daughter.

Ysme huffed under her breath, but both their eyes were twinkling as they looked at one another, so I knew he’d meant no offense.

“Only good things, I hope,” I said, smiling a little at my friend.

“As good as I could spin it,” she said, smirking back. “I might have mentioned that you tend to cry your eyes out more than my littlest nephew, but he thought it more endearing than anything.”

“So,” said her father, eyeing me up again, and hopefully not noticing the indignant blush which I could feel spreading over the bridge of my nose. “You want to go help a man who makes you cry your eyes out, is that it.”

“That’s a little harsh on Uncle,” said Ania, sounding amused.

“Captain Cyrus,” said Lia, her no-nonsense voice cutting through the ripple of snorts and giggles that passed through the room. “Can you assist us in leaving the city?”

His eyes met hers.

“Aye,” he said after a moment, nodding. “I can.”

“Thank the Nine,” I said, sighing with relief.

“But my advice to you all,” he said, looking at me again, “is to not tell another soul about this venture. Most folk are loyal to the jarl, but enough septims can sway even the most noble and loyal of hearts. Now I don’t know exactly what’s going on—I know as much as the next man, which is that the jarl and General Galmar both left the city some time ago—and the truth is, I don’t want to know. As it happens, I still have a ship, and though I’ve not walked her decks for at least ten years now, she’s still been our sole source of income, along with my wife’s pension. I’ll assemble a crew, and we can be gone before the day ends.”

“What?” asked Ysme, straightening suddenly, her eyes widening in alarm. “Father, _no_. You don’t have to go. Find someone else to captain the ship, one of the men—

“No, girl,” said her father. “I’ve offered my services to the jarl’s man, and I won’t take them back. You’ve said you trust me,” he said, looking at me again now. I nodded. “That’s very fine of you, but if I were you, I’d be a little more careful about who I trust. No,” he shook his head, “I’ll gladly sail you to where you need to go, no questions asked. I only request that my family be looked after while I’m gone; the pause in shipments will put a dent in our savings, and I know my wife; she’ll be worried about the winter, and how we’re to make it through.”

“I will personally see to your family’s well-being,” said Lia. “I will, of course, keep our assistance discreet. But they will be well looked after, and you will not suffer for the temporary loss of income.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, nodding.

“And now the fun part,” said Ania. “How do we do it?”

“Easy enough,” said Cyrus. “You’re all no doubt very well-known and likely to be identified in the streets by most folk. But a big part of that, in my experience, has a lot more to do with how you dress yourself, who you travel with, and how you carry yourself. You, for instance,” he continued, nodding at Ania. “You’re the general’s daughter, and the jarl’s heir. Everyone knows you. You walk about town with a well-earned swagger, armed and armored to the teeth, your pretty lady at your side or a group of your fellow soldiers jibber-jabbering about you. But put on an old dress, braid that wild hair of yours, grab a basket full of goods, and you’d be as invisible as the next peasant lass going about her business.”

Ania made a face.

“You expect me to walk through this city unarmed like some…” She stopped, choking on her words, and actually managed not to glance at me. “Well, not like a Nord, that’s for sure.”

“Like an elf?” I asked, teasing, and she had the grace to blush to the roots of her hair.

“Aye, that’s what I expect,” said Cyrus, “because it’s the last thing anyone else would expect. You’ll be the toughest of the lot,” he added, looking at me. “Townsfolk will know you, especially the other elves, no matter what you’re wearing.”

“Well,” said Una, “if we’re to put a dress on Ania—why not Casien, too?”

“What?!” I said, and now it was my turn to blush, because— _really_??

Cyrus narrowed his eyes at me, his hand coming up to stroke through his wiry beard.

“That could work,” he said, clearly ignoring my sputtering indignation. “You wouldn’t be the prettiest of lasses, but that could play to your advantage. Who else?” he asked.

“Me,” said Eleanor before then nodding at Hasan, “And him.”

“You I don’t know,” said Cyrus. “Walk with Lord Casien here, giggling between yourselves like a pair of servant girls sent to run some errand in the city. As for you…”

He paused to eye Hasan critically.

“Lady Una’s husband, am I right? It’s going to be hard if not impossible to disguise the most famous Redguard in Windhelm, so I suggest we don’t. Go as yourself. Head down to the docks at the appointed time, and walk there as if you’ve business to conduct.”

“We can easily spread a story about you being sent to one of the northern towns to discuss defenses. Dawnhollow in particular has been complaining of wolves and bandits,” said Lia, her finger tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Though it will seem odd that you’re apparently traveling alone.”

“We’ll say he’s meeting the rest of his company on the ship,” said Una. “They arrived earlier, but he stayed here at the palace for as long as he could so he could spend as much time with me as possible.”

“I’ll not have to lie about that part,” he said, taking her hand. She smiled a bit weakly, and squeezed his hand back.

“Then it’s settled,” said Cyrus. “We’ll set out at dusk, if that’s all right with you. We’ve a full moon tonight and clear skies.”

“Wait,” I said, realizing something. “What about all our things?”

He cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Things?”

“Our clothing,” I said, suddenly fumbling, trying to remember just what one might need to bring on a long trip, despite the fact that I myself had just returned from one. “Personal items, septims, other things we might need.”

“Our weapons and armor,” said Ania. “If you’re sending me across town in a damn dress I’d better have my weapons and armor waiting for me on that ship of yours.”

“Box it all up and have it sent as cargo to the Lady Valiant,” said Cyrus. “Needs to be there two hours before departure so the crew can load it up.”

“Thank you, Captain Cyrus,” said Lia, rising to her feet and clearly bringing the discussion to an end. “The crown is in your debt, and that will not be forgotten. We will do as you instructed.”

Cyrus nodded and stood, pausing to remind us of the two deadlines: departure at dusk, cargo two hours before that—before he and his daughter turned and exited the room, Ysme sparing me one more aggrieved look before they disappeared.

I sighed, feeling not a little bad about involving her beloved father in all of this. But he was willing to assist us, and we needed as much help as we could get.

The others decided to all return to their rooms to pack or to take care of any remaining unfinished business; Ania and Hasan in particular, I imagine, had to settle things with the guard and the soldiers. Before I left, Lia made me promise to meet her in the jarl’s office around 2 to discuss the new temporary heir. I hadn’t forgotten about that, though I was still waffling somewhat on my choice. I told myself that ultimately it wouldn’t matter, just as she’d said last night, for I prayed with all my heart that Windhelm would once again soon have its jarl and its heir safely back home.

For my part, I went downstairs instead of heading immediately back to my apartment. I took the servants’ stairs as usual, remembering to spare a small smile for those who paused to greet me or bow their heads towards me. Once on the ground floor, I skirted the major hallways and headed instead for the barracks, but though I knew who I was looking for, I hadn’t the faintest clue where she might be right now.

She wasn’t in the barracks. In fact, she was with the horses, standing in the middle of one of the small paddocks now, holding a large bay mare by the halter and speaking soothingly to her. I didn’t visit this part of the yard too often; for one, I didn’t exactly care for the smell, but my reticence was mostly on account of my faint, lingering fear of horses. I mean, I wasn’t really _afraid_ of them, truly, but they were so large and powerful, and could basically snap my spine with a well-aimed kick—I just chose not to risk it, I suppose.

“Uh oh,” she said, seeing me approach. “Something must be up.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, smiling a little as I leaned against the wooden rails.

She looked over her shoulder again and arched one blond brow.

I smiled again and dropped my gaze momentarily to the hay-strewn dirt below. A faint breeze ruffled my hair, bringing with it the smell of horses and sweat and hay. I sighed and rest my chin on my crossed arms.

“Look,” she said, “If this is about Eleanor…”

“It is,” I said. “Just… not in the way you probably think it is.”

I looked up again and saw she’d let the mare go. She was leaning against the fence now, eyeing me curiously.

“Well? Spit it out.”

I took a quick, deep breath. There was no easy way to explain or describe what had happened. But then again, maybe it wasn’t my place to do so.

“We’re going to be leaving again soon,” I said.

“‘We’?”

I nodded.

“Me, Eleanor, Ania, and Hasan. Please don’t tell any of the others. I mean, Ysme and Brelyna know, but no one else at the palace can know. It’s… probably going to be dangerous.”

Her eyes widened, and all the color seemed to drain briefly from her cheeks.

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

I shook my head.

“No. The four of us may already be too many. But…” I hesitated, then decided to just plunge ahead and say what needed to be said. “I think you should visit her. _Please_ , Hanna. Just talk to her. It could be the last—

“Don’t say that,” she interrupted, and her face was now flushed, her eyes shining ever so slightly. She cleared her throat and looked away for a moment before nodding.

“All right. I’ll go see her now.” Her eyes met mine again, narrowing. “You’ll take care of her, won’t you? And let those other two take care of _you_. Ania Stone-fist isn’t the smartest cookie in the jar, but she’s a soldier, through and through. And from what I’ve heard from some of the others, that Hasan has both brains and brawn.”

She reached out, then, laying a hand on my shoulder and squeezing slightly, startling me.

“Casien. Let them take care of you. All right?”

I was silent for a moment before nodding.

She nodded back and gave me a little pat before releasing me.

My trek back to the palace was a solemn one. I headed up to my apartment, my head full of the conversation I’d just had. Suppose, after all, this were the last time Hanna and Eleanor ever saw one another? Suppose I never saw my own husband again.

I nodded to the guard stationed outside my rooms and paused to turn over the little sign by the door, indicating that I would take lunch alone instead of in the dining room. A large rucksack sat on the floor by one of the couches, and I supposed this was to be all I was allowed to bring on the trip. I set about packing, stuffing as much as I could into the rucksack, pausing only to eat my lunch once it was delivered. Afterward, I did something I probably shouldn’t have: I lay down on the bed and read—not just the letter the king had left for me, but all the letters he had ever written to me.

I didn’t cry—not really. Maybe my eyes grew a bit wet, and a lump formed in my throat, and I lowered my forehead onto the sleeve of my shirt and bit my bottom lip so it wouldn’t tremble. But I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. We would find him. I had to believe that, or I’d be next to useless on this journey.

It was nearing 2 o’clock in the afternoon, so I headed back downstairs to meet with Lia in the jarl’s office.

I don’t think she was surprised when I wrote the name _Una Stone-Fist_ on the line at the bottom of the temporary succession document.

I straightened, our eyes meeting.

“I would have chosen you,” I said. “But…”

“Una is the daughter of the jarl’s greatest general, and the sister of his heir.” She nodded. “It is a fine choice, and the right one, I believe. Una’s ability to defend the throne until a moot would be greater than my own.”

I nodded back, my eyes then falling to the window behind the jarl’s desk. It faced the yard, and I could see soldiers and guardsmen and women walking about, some laughing together, a pair sparring in the distance.

“Casien.”

I swallowed and looked away from the window.

“I want you to know… I think you are being very brave. And I am… I am _very_ proud of you.” She blinked and swallowed, and I saw that I was not the only one with tears in my eyes. “You know that, don’t you? And whatever happens… you must promise to come back home. Do you understand? No matter what happens.”

I nodded, and was little surprised when she closed the distance between us and pulled me into a hug. I hugged her back, squeezing my eye shut. We held one another for a few more seconds before pulling back, both of us sniffing.

“Now,” she said, wiping absently at her eyes. “Go upstairs and get ready. I shall send Hellina to you; she will know how to assist you in your… transformation.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned a little, for it seemed me-in-a-dress was still a thing that was going to happen. She laughed and gave me an affectionate little pat before then ushering me back out the door.

Both Eleanor, Hellina, _and_ Brelyna came to help with my _transformation_. At least it was a fun and silly way to spend our last few hours together; Ania even showed up, ‘for moral support,’ she said, but I knew it was just to get a look at me and laugh her entire ass off at the finished product.

I’m sure it will come as no surprise to hear that I’d never worn women’s clothing before. I stripped down to my smallclothes, and tried not to groan as Hellina produced a brassiere with artificially _enhanced_ cups—that is, bits of cotton stuffed inside each one. I could feel my entire face turning bright red as she hooked it into place, and I glared at Ania and reminded her that I would engulf her entire body in a fireball if she so much as cracked a smile. Which she did, until she, Brelyna, and Eleanor were practically falling over one another from laughing. I snatched the dress—one of Eleanor’s, as we were the same height—and tried to hastily pull it on. Hellina’s hands on my shoulders stilled me; she pulled the crumpled dress back off of me and lowered it, bidding me to step into it instead, so I did so. She tied it up behind me, then; it was tight, as my chest and shoulders were wider than Eleanor’s, but it would do.

Next they had a consultation concerning my hair, which everyone agreed was probably my most defining feature. Hellina wanted to braid it, but Brelyna said that she’d noticed many Dunmer women in the castle using head scarfs to keep their hair out of their faces as they went about their duties. A scarf was duly fetched from one of the other girls’ bedrooms, and, not surprisingly, Hellina proved deft at wrapping it around my head, concealing most of my hair save for a few strands that ‘framed my lovely face,’ as she put it, a tiny smile forming on her own pretty face.

“You’re enjoying this,” I muttered, and growled when she patted my cheek.

She employed a bit of make-up, then, mainly kohl around my eyes; the idea wasn’t to make me look like a painted up courtesan, but merely to somewhat soften and feminize my features, just enough so that anyone we passed wouldn’t look twice at me. Lastly, a kerchief was tied around my neck, a light cloak thrown about my shoulders, and as for my boots, my usual pair were deemed suitable enough.

“Well,” said Eleanor, who was dressed similarly. “Are we ready?”

Ania had also donned her own disguise, and, to be honest, Cyrus hadn’t exactly been wrong. She looked like a completely different person, dressed in a simple but pretty cotton dress, her hair braided along the sides of her head. She and Hellina left before us, likely so that they could share their own painful good-bye—I breathed in deeply, and forced myself to not think about it—to think about the long kiss they would likely share, the embrace that neither would want to step out of, fingers gripping one another just a little bit tighter.

Just then, a miserable thought hit me.

“I forgot to say good-bye to Chomper!” I said.

Rather than laugh at me, as I’d half-anticipated, Eleanor and Brelyna merely exchanged a glance before both fixing me with a sympathetic look.

“Do you want us to wait outside?” Brelyna asked, her voice even more tentative and sweet than usual. Both she and Eleanor knew Chomper wouldn’t come out of whatever hiding place she was currently skulking in until she left.

I took another deep breath and shook my head.

“No. I’ll just—” I blinked and gazed up at the ceiling hastily, for I didn’t want the kohl to run. “I’ll see her again soon. Let’s just go.”

The truth was, I didn’t want to be left alone, not even for a moment. And I was less worried about causing the make-up to run and more worried about succumbing to a breakdown, for my hands were already shaking, and my heart was pounding. I swallowed and met Eleanor’s eyes.

“Let’s just go,” I repeated, and she nodded.

Outside the apartment, we said our last good-byes to Brelyna, who hugged us both very fiercely. Then I looked at Eleanor and, after taking a deep breath, took her hand. She squeezed mine back. The guard at the door did a double-take, but I shook my head at him, and he frowned and resumed his post. Eleanor and I made our way towards the servants’ stairs then. I had her go before me, though I stayed close behind, and kept my face turned down. We passed a few servants, but none of them gave me so much as a second glance.

I knew the quickest way out, so once we were on the ground floor, I wrapped my arm around Eleanor’s and led her firmly towards the nearest exit, one that would open onto the gardens outside.

“Slow down,” she muttered, so I did. I relaxed my grip on her arm, too, and kept my eyes cast down. I was aware now of a few people giving us curious looks, but I suspected this was more because some of the servants did indeed recognize Eleanor by now, and they simply wondered who it was she was walking so closely with.

Once we were outside, we had a far easier time of it. My biggest concern was having to deal with any potential harassment, especially since we would have to walk through some of the rougher parts of town to get to the docks.

“We’re supposed to be talking and giggling,” said Eleanor wryly, and I couldn’t help snorting.

“I guess I’m not really in a giggling mood,” I said.

“Have you seen yourself in a mirror yet?”

I elbowed her in the side, eliciting a startled ‘ow!’ and a retaliatory jab into my own side. That set us both off laughing, and when we tried to stifle it, hands over our mouths—well, I suppose Cyrus’ disguise was finally complete, for we were definitely giggling now.

Luckily, we made it to the docks without interruption. I imagine any would-be harassers simply took one look at my face and changed their minds.

“Now which one is the Lady Valiant?” muttered Eleanor.

“Probably the one that lovely peasant lass is about to board,” I said, lifting my hand and pointing to Ania in the distance. She had paused to speak to the dockworker leaning against the wharf leading up to a ship before eventually passing him.

“She still walks like a soldier,” I said, snorting.

“I guess there wasn’t really any time for etiquette lessons,” said Eleanor. “Come on.”

I still kept my head down, though there was probably no longer any real danger of being recognized. We did get a few appraising looks as we passed a group of sailors, and some even called out to us, but we just kept walking.

“Enjoying your first evening out as a girl?” muttered Eleanor, as we passed a particularly raucous group of men (though there were a few women present as well).

“It’s going to be hard not to have them all thrown in prison when we return,” I said, casting a dirty look back at the group. One of the men saw me and laughed, his hand dropping near the vicinity of his crotch to make a rude gesture. I huffed under my breath and quickly faced forward again, pulling Eleanor along with me.

“Is this the Lady Valiant?” I asked, once we arrived at the same wharf Ania had stopped at.

The sailor standing there narrowed his eyes down at me. If he thought my face and voice didn’t quite match my dress, he didn’t say anything. There _were_ some people whose bodies didn’t quite match their identities, so it was likely he mistook me for such a woman.

“Aye,” he said. “Captain told me about you.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Your friend just boarded.”

“Thank you,” I said.

We made our way down the wharf, and I could feel my breath getting trapped in my lungs somewhat (and not just on account of the tight clothing I was wearing), my heart beating quick and shallow in my chest. I swallowed. This was it. I was boarding the ship that would take me from Windhelm for gods knew how long—and gods only knew what I would find when we arrived at our destination.

Captain Cyrus was on the ship, striding across the deck and shouting orders at his men and women. When he saw us, he gave us a curt nod and jerked his head at a door which presumably led to a cabin. We nodded and hurried towards it; I had to grab hold of Eleanor when she stumbled a little, for the ground beneath our feet now rocked with the same slow rhythm of the bay. I opened the cabin door, and was little surprised to see Ania already crouched before her rucksack, pulling out a pair of trousers and a tunic.

“We’re to stay in here until Hasan comes and gets us,” she said, standing and reaching back to yank at the ties of her dress. Eleanor walked over and batted her hand away so she could undo the ties for her.

I sat down on one of the bunks and absently pulled the headscarf from my hair.

All my life, I had dreamed of going on an adventure. Exploring new lands, meeting new people, and learning about strange, new cultures… of course, once I become an adult, I put away such childish thoughts. My eventual marriage to the High King of Skyrim had cemented Windhelm as my now permanent home, and I had been, for the most part, more than okay with that. I loved my husband, more than I could probably put into words, and I had come to care for his city more than I would have ever imagined.

But a love of learning, I now knew, could only remain dormant for so long. It had pushed me to return to the college for a year, and it would probably push me again, eventually, though I couldn’t imagine how or when. I had never even visited any of the other major cities in Skyrim save for Whiterun.

“You look like you’re a thousand miles away,” said Ania, coming to plop down on the bed beside me. She was wearing trousers again, and quickly pulled a loose tunic over her head.

I shrugged and rubbed absently at my eyes, smearing away the kohl, though that probably wasn’t the best way to get rid of it.

“This just isn’t how I ever saw myself traveling to another country,” I said, resting my elbows on my knees.

“It’s my first time leaving Skyrim, too,” said Ania. “You take what the gods give you, I guess.”

“And I guess that makes me the most experienced traveler here,” said Eleanor, plopping down on the bunk next to us.

We all three shared a grim smile. In any other circumstances, starting off on such a journey would have been one of the most exciting moments in my life. I suppose, regardless of the situation itself, it meant a lot that we would be sharing it together.

//

The song for this chapter is "[Oceans](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqsL0QQaSP4)" by Seafret, it's a whole Ulfrien Part 3 mood:

 

_I want you_  
_Yeah I want you_  
_And nothing comes close_  
_To the way that I need you_  
_I wish I can feel your skin_  
_And I want you_  
_From somewhere within_

_It feels like there's oceans_  
_Between me and you once again_  
_We hide our emotions_  
_Under the surface and tryin' to pretend_  
_But it feels like there's oceans_  
_Between you and me_

Except, you know, there actually _is_ a literal ocean between them right now.

What does Hasan look like? you're probably wondering. Here's who I see in my head: [Hasan a.k.a. Ser Delrin Barris](https://66.media.tumblr.com/36c588de19122097e1c97fd9f14bed29/tumblr_nhwoq4BjbL1roaps6o4_r1_250.gif)

//

_Casien -- "The things you do for love"_ by [diamond-auri-el.tumblr.com](diamond-auri-el.tumblr.com).


	6. Chapter 6

For all I had grown up near the harbor, I had only been on a ship twice in my life. The first time a ship had born me far away from the only home I had ever known. And now, one was bearing me away from home again.

Once it was deemed safe for us to come out, I went and leaned against the railing at the stern of the ship. The wind whipped my hair back and pressed my clothing tight against my body, and I could barely hear the shouts of the sailors behind me. But I stood and watched as my adopted city grew smaller and smaller upon the horizon, the last few rays of light from the sun just brushing the top of the Palace of the Kings. Then the sun was finally gone, dipping back behind the mountains to the west, and the world soon faded into darkness, the bright stars and full moons now twinkling above us.

“I think you gave some of the sailors a bit of a start,” said Hasan, coming to stand beside me.

I glanced at him, noting the smile on his handsome face. It looked more than a little forced.

“‘Whether pretty girl or pretty boy / red-rose lips or star-bright eyes / the sailor cares not’,” I said, the wind seeming to snatch the soft words of the poem as soon as they left my tongue.

Hasan’s lips quirked.

“Is that what the two of you do when you’re alone together?” he teased. “Recite poetry to one another?”

“Pretty much,” I said, managing to smile back. “That and other things.”

He chuckled and leaned against the railing, both of us staring out into the darkness now.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said after a while.

I glanced at him.

“For what?”

“For asking me to accompany you. It means a great deal for me to be a part of this. To rescue my king and my… my father-in-law.”

I sighed and folded my arms over the railing, resting my chin on them.

“Una won’t be thanking me,” I said. “She wanted you to stay.”

“I probably should have. But she isn’t alone. And she’s strong. Stronger than me, in most ways.”

I shrugged without lifting my arms or chin.

“It was the practical choice. Two for two. I knew I would ask Eleanor, and neither of us is a soldier, so it makes sense to bring two soldiers. Galmar mentioned Ania in his letter. You’re the obvious number two.”

He turned his head again to look at me, a curious look on his face.

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re a good soldier,” I said, even though I knew that wasn’t the whole truth. “A great one.” I was silent for a long time before finally admitting the rest. “And because you’re family.”

And this—what we were doing—it was about family. It was about my husband, as well as the man I had come to see as a father. It was about Hasan’s own father-in-law, the father of his beloved wife, and about the king he looked up to. It was about Ania’s father and uncle, both of whom she admired and loved so deeply.

It was our duty to see this through, and no one else could—or should—see it through but us.

“I was born in Windhelm,” he said. “So were my father and mother. But both their parents came from Hammerfell.” His jaw clenched, ever so slightly. “It’s hard being a non-Nord in a city like Windhelm, even if I’m married to a Nord, and a child of mine may one day be jarl.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, smiling a little.

I lifted my head again, turning fully to face him.

“But to the people who love us—where we come from doesn’t matter to them.” I shrugged. “And that’s all that matters to me.”

“Then that makes you a better man than I,” he said, sighing. “There’s a part of me that feels I have to do this, to prove myself—not to my family, but to myself, and to the people we serve. Call me a fool, but I can’t ignore it.”

“You’re not a fool,” I said. “Una’s too smart to marry a fool.”

He barked out a laugh, and gave me a playful slap on the shoulder.

“Come on, then, my lord consort. We should go find something to eat before these hungry sailors steal it all first.”

“Or Ania,” I said wryly. “She can really put it away.”

The mess hall was located below deck and consisted of a dark, creaking, wooden room with long tables and benches nailed to the floor. Sailors sat at their dinner, talking and laughing and occasionally roughhousing. The rocking of the ship was negligible at present, but I wondered what would happen during a storm—surely it would be impossible to keep one’s plate and tankard from flying across the room.

Hasan nudged me gently away from the main area to a little alcove off to the right. This was apparently where passengers could eat, separate from the raucous sailors, though still technically part of the main room. Ania and Eleanor were already seated, and they must have gotten food for all of us, for there were already four tin trays of food and four tankards of beer set out. But while Eleanor appeared to be eating her dinner at a respectable pace, Ania sat across from her, forehead resting on her crossed arms. Her whole body seemed hunched over, and she really did look very ill.

“Not much better?” asked Hasan, as he took a seat beside her, and I sat down beside Eleanor.

When all he received in response was an agonized groan, he simply gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before turning to his own plate.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

“Sea sickness,” said Eleanor. “It can bring down even the strongest warrior apparently.”

One of Ania’s hands uncurled just long enough to make a weak and wobbly rude gesture in our general direction. Eleanor smirked.

“The first mate gave her something for the pain,” she said, picking up her fork and poking at something green and mushy, “but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Which one’s the first mate?” I asked, glancing back towards the sailors. There didn’t seem to be any conscious acknowledgement of rank amongst them.

“Redguard woman sitting at the head of the table farthest to the left. Her name’s Shayna, and I’m _pretty_ sure she’s got her sights set on Ania.”

“Didn’t she notice the wedding ring?” I asked, startled.

Hasan chuckled. “I don’t think sailors pay much attention to such things.”

This was vaguely unsettling, even though I hadn’t noticed anyone eyeing me up yet, especially now that I was no longer dressed as a woman. Still, I supposed one couldn’t be too careful—not that I anticipated any sort of trouble, but I couldn’t help feeling uneasy. It was good, I thought, that Eleanor and I shared a room with Hasan and Ania at least.

I took a deep breath, shaking the thought from my head, and pushed myself to move on to other things. Like my friend’s love life, naturally.

“So,” I said, eyeing the lumpy stew in my bowl as I slowly stirred it. “Speaking of weddings…”

“Here we go,” said Eleanor, sighing.

“Did you at _least_ get to talk to her?” I asked. “Before we left?”

“You mean, did my best friend apparently warn my ex-girlfriend that I was about to leave for a journey that would place me in mortal danger, thereby causing her to knock at my door and demand that I let her in, after which she proceeded to insist that I refuse to accompany you? If so, then the answer is ‘yes’.”

I sank down a little into the bench.

“Sorry,” I said in a tiny voice.

“So that’s who that was,” said Hasan. “I wondered.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“Well, anyway. I guess it wasn’t the _worst_ thing you could have done. At least she still seems to…”

She trailed off, a faint flush coming to her cheeks. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she scowled.

“Nine,” she muttered. “Let’s just get this over with. Yes, we talked. Yes, I said I’d rethink her offer. Yes, I think we’re going to be okay.”

“YAY!” I said, raising both fists into the air and sitting up in jubilant triumph.

“And now playing the part of Brelyna Maryon will be Casien Yedlin,” said Eleanor, rolling her eyes again.

“Well _someone_ has to be excited about this!”

“Should I be excited?” asked Hasan, looking vaguely confused.

“No,” said Eleanor.

“Yes,” I said. “They’ve been together since I’ve known them. Seriously, they had the absolutely _cutest_ courtship I’ve ever seen. I mean, they didn’t even sleep together for the first _year_ they were together—

“CASIEN!” screeched Eleanor, and Hasan couldn’t seem to decide whether to be astonished or amused, so he indulged both. Of course, I didn’t think it fair to only play for one side, so—

“Meanwhile, unless my math is wrong, Una was already pregnant when we left for the moot,” I said, smirking as Hasan’s laughter abruptly stopped, and a blush seemed to suffuse his face.

“Really!” said Eleanor, blinking. “So… she would’ve been _how_ old?”

“Only just 18,” I said. “And Hasan’s a year older than me. We didn’t even know who he was back then.”  
  
“Speak for yourself,” mumbled Ania.

“That’s only because you caught them going at it,” I pointed out, which was something I learned much later and enjoyed trotting out in any given conversation.

Hasan groaned and covered his face briefly with his hands.

“I thought her father was going to eject me from the guard,” he said, now rubbing his face at the bleak memory.

“Instead, he conscripted you into the army,” I said, grinning. “What was it he said? ‘No daughter of mine is going to produce a whelp with a fucking guardsman!’” I sighed. “Ahh, Galmar.”

“I guess it all worked out,” said Eleanor. “You’re third in command of the High King’s army.”

“Yes, it plays over quite well with many of the _other_ soldiers,” he said wryly. “Especially the veterans. Keeps me on my toes, at least.”

“Excuse me,” said Ania suddenly. “I have to go barf again.”

“I’ll go make sure she’s all right,” said Hasan, looking amused as he got up to follow her.

I watched him go, unable to not notice that a couple of the sailors were watching him as well. The realization baffled me, for we’d only just left shore a few hours ago; how could they be so… _hungry_ for that sort of thing? I supposed there was no understanding some people.

“So,” I said, turning back to Eleanor, “I had something of an idea. Remember that location spell Nirya invented my first year at the college?”

“Of course. No one’s been able to replicate it,” said Eleanor. “I’m pretty sure that’s what put her up for adept.”

I nodded.

“Well, I was thinking, maybe we should make a detour for Winterhold. We could ask Nirya to—

“No can do,” she said, interrupting me and shaking her head. “Nirya and Onmund will have left already for Rorikstead.”

“Oh,” I said, remembering now. “The new nephew.”

“Right. So they won’t be back until the end of the summer.”

So there went that. We didn’t know for sure that my husband had been kidnapped or taken against his will in any way, but if he had, Nirya’s location spell would have proven invaluable.

“Oh, crap.”

I looked over to where Eleanor was now gazing, and saw that two sailors were approaching our table. They both wore confident grins, and walked past the cheers and shouts of encouragement of their fellows. I swallowed the feeling of trepidation at the back of my throat and exchanged a glance with Eleanor. She just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Hello,” said the first of the sailors. “My name’s Urik.”

“Toralf,” said the second, nodding at us both, though his eyes lingered on Eleanor in particular. “We noticed your companions left you two sitting here alone and wondered if you might like some company.”

“No, thanks,” said Eleanor. “We’re good.”

“How about you?” asked Urik, his eyes running briefly down before gazing back up into my own. “Want some company?” His smile turned slightly crooked. “Maybe later tonight?”

I could feel myself blushing, but I didn’t know what to do. They weren’t being rude or aggressive, just… very, _very_ forward. But I couldn’t help feeling as if the walls were suddenly closing in on me. The gently rocking mess hall seemed to fade and be replaced with the dark, cold streets of Windhelm, and the two smirking sailors became a whole gaggle of Nord men, taunting me and threatening me, leaving me no choice but to—

“I’m married,” I said, the words just sort of bubbling up out of me.

Urik shrugged.

“And? They say what happens on a ship—

“To Ulfric Stormcloak,” I blurted out.

The whole mess hall went silent. The two men were now both goggling down at me, their eyes as wide as saucer plates, their mouths hanging half open.

Then someone started laughing.

Soon a second man joined in, then a third.

“Ready to fuck the jarl’s own husband, Urik?!” someone said, the question producing a whole cacophony of laughter now.

“At least he broke him in for you!” cried another.

I glanced at the first mate to see if she was going to do anything about this, but she was laughing just as hard as the others. Urik seemed to relax, and smile again, though he didn’t make any further moves towards me. As rough in their ways as they were, I realized they weren’t bad people, these sailors; they were just… well, not like the usual sort I tended to hang around.

“Hold on a minute,” said Toralf. “The jarl _is_ married to a dark elf. And he seems the right age. Plus they say he’s rather… uh, well, not that I’m the best judge of such things, but, you know.” He gestured at me, almost apologetically. “Pretty.”

“Aye,” agreed another sailor. “I’ve heard the same. And the jarl’s gone out of the country, they say. Perhaps he’s going to meet him.”

“I shouldn’t like to be the man caught fucking Ulfric Stormcloak’s husband,” said another.

Urik blanched and took a hasty step back.

“All right,” said Eleanor, standing and grabbing me by the arm, forcing me to stand up beside her. “Time for us to go.”

Toralf stepped back to let us pass with a smirk and a little exaggerated bow. Urik’s bow, however, was perhaps a little less tongue-in-cheek.

The last thing I heard was one of the sailors ribbing him for having finer taste in lads than the captain had for spiced rum.

“Are you out of your mind?” hissed Eleanor, once we’d left the mess hall. “We’re supposed to keep who we are hidden! For all we know, whoever kidnapped that husband of yours could have a spy on board!”

“We don’t know for sure that he’s been kidnapped,” I said, the words coming out harsher than I intended. I pulled my arm free from her grasp. “And I’m sorry, but I panicked!”

She rolled her eyes.

“You could’ve just told the guy ‘no.’ It’s not like he would’ve tossed you over his shoulder right there in front of everyone.”

When I was silent and didn’t respond, she looked over at me. Whatever expression I had on my face must have shocked her, because she immediately stopped.

“Casien,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed and shook my head.

“Nothing, I just—I panic when stuff like that happens. It makes me feel…” I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking my head again. “I don’t know. Trapped.”

“Nine,” she breathed, her face paling slightly. “Casien, I’m so sorry. I forgot you were almost—shit, seriously, I feel like an ass now.”

I sighed.

“Yeah… Look, don’t feel bad. I’m the one who feels stupid for letting something that happened over five years ago still bother me.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she said, taking my hand and squeezing it. “Though I still wish you hadn’t revealed who you were.”

“I think half of them still think I was bluffing anyway.”

A small smile crept onto her face.

“That Urik sure looked panicked at the thought of being caught with _Ulfric Stormcloak’s husband_.” She snorted, then gave me a sly look. “He was pretty good-looking, though, wasn’t he? Really tall, bearded, kind of on the older side… I mean, that’s your type, right?”

I smacked her arm so hard she laughed and said “OW!” And I’m not even a little bit sorry for it, either, since she fully deserved it.

I slept surprisingly well that night, even despite Ania’s pitiful groaning, and the shifting, rocking ship beneath us all. I did lie in bed for a fully thirty minutes or so sometime just before dawn, suffering from a full bladder, before finally getting quietly to my feet and shaking Hasan awake so I could convince him to accompany me to the toilet, or the “head” as it’s apparently called. I figured I’d be brave enough to go without an escort during the day, but after the whole situation with Urik and the others, it just made me feel better to bring a friend along. And Hasan, bless him, didn’t complain once; only blinked and yawned and nodded before getting out of bed.

If I could characterize the journey in one word, it would probably be _listless_. There was so very little to do, and all our minds—especially mine and Ania’s—were focused on what we would find or not find at the end of it. In any other circumstance, I would have been keen to learn everything I could about sailing a ship. I’m sure I would have made a nuisance of myself, bothering the sailors about why this sail was shaped differently from that one, or whether it was harder to sail by sun or by stars.

But I couldn’t seem to drum up any enthusiasm for the goings-on around me. Most of the time, I either napped in my bunk or sat curled up on a pile of netting on the starboard side of the ship, several heavy wooden boxes of supplies blocking the wind and giving me something to lean up against. I was forced to wear a cloak with the hood pulled up, for despite the fact that it was nearing the middle of summer, the Sea of Ghosts was far to the north, and the winds that gusted over the tops of the waves sometimes brought a bone-chilling cold reminiscent of Winterhold in the dregs of winter. Once I fell asleep there and it had begun to rain; with my hood pulled up, I hadn’t noticed. Hasan had to stop by and shake me awake, and insist that I head back to the cabin, for it would do no one any good if I should take ill on this journey.

I read a great deal. I hadn’t brought any books of my own, but the captain loaned me some of his. These were mostly nautical books, books on trade and the history of sailing, but they served to occupy my mind when what it wanted more than anything was to dwell on the worst case scenario that might be waiting for us in High Rock.

My friends all dealt with the situation in their own way. Ania made friends with all the sailors; I would hear her laughing with them or see her showing them a few tricks with a dagger or a sword. Once, they evidently dared her to climb to the top of the highest mast. She did it, not surprisingly. I imagine there was copious drinking involved, as well.

Hasan spent a great deal of time with the captain or the first mate. They let him take the wheel a few times, and I even saw him examining and attempting to use the sun-sighter the captain used to navigate the ship with. He and Ania also sometimes sparred together, and occasionally some of the sailors would challenge one or both of them to a wrestling match.

Eleanor—I would have thought she’d be as out of place as possible on a ship, but she wasn’t. I forgot how easily she made friends. She, too, befriended many of the sailors, and they taught her card games and dice games, and she listened to their stories of far off lands and adventures and relayed them to me. She spent probably the most time with me, more so than the others, for she would often come and join me in my little alcove. I think she knew that I needed someone to talk to, to take my mind off journey’s end.

For the sailors did not make overtures of friendship towards _me_ , nor did I attempt to do so towards them. I think the crew were uncertain as to my identity and my status; half did seem to think I was married to the jarl, yet even the other half now seemed convinced I was a person of some import. Ania and Hasan were judged to be my bodyguards, and Eleanor my companion. I suppose the captain’s deference towards me when he spoke to me didn’t exactly go unnoticed either. When I walked past, sailors moved out of my way; they eyed me with thinly veiled curiosity, and a few even nodded in polite acknowledge. Thankfully, none of them ever bowed or addressed me as ‘my lord.’

I swiftly lost track of time on the ship. By the fifth day, I was no longer sure if it even _was_ the fifth day, for it may as well be the sixth, or the seventh, for all I could tell or recall. The captain could give very little reassurance as to how long it would take us to journey towards our destination, for much depended on the weather. One day we might travel briskly for hours, the bow of the ship slicing rapidly through the water. The next, the winds might change completely, or a storm might roll through, or a fog, and we’d barely travel half the distance we had the day previous.

Storms were frankly terrifying. I was nervous during a storm in general, especially when caught out in one while traveling. But nothing could compare to being caught in a storm out at sea. The ship bucked and groaned; the waves crashed against the walls of our little cabin so violently it made our hearts stutter in our chests. Ania’s sea sickness would return, and she’d be a huddling, moaning mess in one corner, while I curled up in another corner and tried not to give in to a terror which had already claimed the breath in my lungs. Poor Eleanor had a time of it, going back and forth between the two of us, while Hasan stayed outside to help the sailors as best he could.

Then came the storm that seemed to rage harder than any storm previously.

It had come, seemingly, out of nowhere. One minute the skies were clear and blue; the next, dark clouds were rapidly rolling in from the west, and a wind gust hit us all so hard it nearly swept me right off my feet. Soon the captain was bellowing for us to get to our cabin before calling for all hands to report to their duties.

Sailors rushed past me as I hurried from my alcove to the relative safety of the cabin. The waves were now rocking the ship so hard I nearly lost my footing several times. Finally, one hit so hard it rocked the bow of the ship abruptly upward; I fell and slid forward—and would have slammed into a nearby mast had a sailor not reached out and grabbed me.

“Here!” he shouted over what now had to be gale-force winds. “Hold on. Don’t let go!”

I nodded and wrapped my arms around the mast, even as he raced past me to man one of the sails.

Lightning cracked the sky in half over head, thunder rolling and whipping through the heavy clouds. The sky had turned black, the rain pelting me sideways. The ship rocked and tipped and slammed repeatedly back against the waves, and I closed my eyes and squeezed my fingertips into the wooden mast as tightly as I could.

“Let go!”

Hands on my shoulders made me open my eyes, and I looked up at Hasan.

“You have to let go!” he shouted again.

I nodded and did so; he wrapped one hand around my arm and the other gripped my side, keeping me close against him. Together, we dodged the rushing sailors and managed to make our way back to the cabin.

Hasan left once he deposited me there. The ship pitched forward again, and I immediately fell. I chose not to get up and just stayed where I was, for standing was impossible, and I was soaked to the bone anyway, so had better keep off the bed.

Ania was predictably in a corner, shuddering and clutching her bucket. Eleanor crawled off her bunk and over towards me, her eyes wide.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You should take off those wet things before you freeze to death!”

“I’m fine,” I said, though I was now shivering quite violently. But I didn’t think there was much danger of hypothermia, despite how wet and cold I was at the moment.

“Where did the storm come from? One minute, the sun was out, not a cloud in the sky, and the next…!”

I shook my head.

“I don’t know. But it’s bad. I know they all know what they’re doing, but…” I shook my head again, and wrapped my arms around my knees, trying to suppress another shiver. “The sky’s as black as a starless night, and it’s barely noon.”

“Take that off,” she scolded before crawling towards my trunk and fishing for a dry tunic. I sighed and almost protested, but another shiver wracked its way through me, so I decided to humor her.

A few minutes later, we could feel the ship turning hard to port. Clearly, Cyrus had decided that it would be best to try and escape the storm rather than plow through it. Once the ship caught the wind in her sails, I could feel us pick up speed. Soon, the rocking beneath us lessened, and the sound of rolling thunder began to fade.

Eleanor and I sat close together on the floor, leaning back against one of the bunks. Eleanor had draped a blanket around me, and I was grateful for it as well as my friend’s body heat. Eventually, Ania finally uncurled herself and leaned against the bunk across from us, her slop bucket between her two legs. Her eyes met mine.

“I hate the sea,” she said, her voice still creaky with nausea.

I looked back at her and couldn’t help the little snort that slipped out. The next thing I knew, Eleanor was giggling, and I was unable to resist joining in; meanwhile, Ania wearily recited every insult she could possibly think of, including but not limited to, any variety of sex positions I took with her uncle, all of which served to only make Eleanor and I laugh all the harder.

Before long, there was a knock at the door. I stood up to answer it, a little surprised to see Captain Cyrus himself gazing solemnly down at me.

“My lord,” he said, nodding his head slightly. “If you would all be so kind as to join me in my cabin.”

Then he turned and left without another word.

We all hurried to comply; I hastily refolded the blanket, and pulled my wet boots back on, Eleanor criticizing me the entire time, of course, but I wasn’t going to pad around barefoot. Ania disposed of the contents of her slop bucket over the side of the ship before hurrying to join us.

We had dined with the captain a few times; this was how I had gotten access to his surprisingly expansive library—at least for a ship: an entire bookcase, six shelves tall. But for most of the journey, he had dined alone; I think a captain needs his alone time, as he spends most of his time amongst his sailors. And yet he is never one of them, but must always be above them, or else the delicate balance of rank would be disturbed, and that could be disastrous for a ship at sea.

I was little surprised to see Hasan already there. He was pacing, hands folded behind his back, a pensive look on his face. He looked up when we all entered, a faint smile came to his handsome face.

“You’re still live,” he said to Ania, his smile turning to a faint smirk.

“Eat my entire ass,” she said.

He grinned, and gave a faint bow.

“Thank you, my lady, but I graciously decline.”

“What we’re about to discuss isn’t to leave the confines of this cabin,” said Cyrus, closing the door behind us.

We all started and turned to face him.

“You mean the storm,” I said, a feeling of trepidation crawling its way up my spine. “There was something strange about it.”

“To the untrained eye, most storms seem to come from nowhere,” he said, walking past us and over towards his desk. “But those of us who know the sea and know her ways are rarely surprised by what she gives us.”

He unrolled a map and spread it out on the desk for us to peer down at it. It was an image of the oceans of Tamriel, with the Sea of Ghosts in the upper right-hand corner. There were various curved lines drawn over the sea, some in different colors, some running in tandem with one another, others not.

“These represent the ocean currents,” he said, pointing to some. “And these, for lack of a better term, represent the currents of the wind.”

“The wind has currents?” asked Ania.

“It’s far more complicated than that, my lady, but the details are unimportant.”

“It’s because of the way the planet tilts and turns,” I said, for I had read about it in one of the books he’d loaned me. “And the way the land masses are laid out, and the push and pull of the poles, all of that together, it creates currents in the air that sailors can use to—

“As I said,” interrupted the captain, “Unimportant.”

My friends all twitched little smiles at me, and I tried not to blush.

“What’s important,” Cyrus continued, “is that this particular storm was not predictable.” He looked at all of us. “It should not have been there.”

We were all silent, and I suspect were all beginning to dread the same thing. But it was Eleanor who finally said it out loud.

“Magic…” she breathed.

Cyrus nodded.

“I can come to no other conclusion. However, previous to today, I wouldn’t have imagined it were possible for any mage to conjure such a powerful destructive force.”

“Oh, it’s definitely possible,” she said, frowning and resting her chin on her fist. “But the mage has to be very powerful, and well-practiced in destruction magic. Casien could probably do it, if he trained for it.”

“Me?!” I said, pointing to myself and actually taking a step back.

She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you. You’re stupidly powerful in destruction magic, even if you _still_ try to pretend otherwise. But it would take _lots_ of training, years, probably.

“It is safe to assume Lord Casien was not the one responsible,” said Cyrus dryly, arms crossed over his chest now. “And I suspect it was not orchestrated by anyone who views him, or his husband, in a particularly friendly fashion.”

“You mean someone knows that we were on board this ship,” said Hasan. “And tried to use the storm to kill us.”

“Fucking mages,” muttered Ania.

“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Kill you?” Cyrus shook his head. “I doubt they would shed any tears should any of us die, but a storm is no sure way to destroy a ship. No, more than likely, they are using the storm to redirect _all_ eastern ships bound for High Rock. Any captain anxious to reach their destination will not try to brave the storm; they will sail around it. From there, I expect they will encounter an unofficial blockade of some sort. They will be stopped and searched. And if they find who or what they are looking for…” He drew his finger across his neck, his expression still icy calm.

“So what do we do?” asked Ania. “We can’t sail into an ambush.”

“You cannot,” said Cyrus. “I can.”

He unrolled another map, placing this one on top of the ocean and air currents map. It offered a much closer perspective of the surrounding area: namely, the shores of northwestern Skyrim and northern High Rock.

“Here is Farrun,” he said, pointing to the port city near the top of the map. “And here is Jehanna.” He moved his finger over towards the right of the map, tapping at another city. “We passed the Bay of Jehanna and Jehanna City several days ago. We are somewhere in between the two at present. I know I promised to take you to Farrun, but that appears no longer to be an option. I propose giving you one of the Valiant’s skiffs and sending you to shore; from there you can hike your way towards your destination. It will take several days, but at least those attempting to locate you will discover that your trail has gone cold.”

Hasan exchanged a look with Ania, who pressed her lips together. Then they both looked at me.

I sighed. That’s right. I was the supposed leader of this little expedition.

“The thing is…” I hesitated, but there didn’t seem to be many options here. “Our destination isn’t exactly Farrun.”

“Casien,” said Eleanor, giving me a warning look.

“I agree with your friend,” said Cyrus. “Whatever you’re about to reveal to me—don’t. I will likely be questioned by those who are searching for you, and I’d prefer if I have nothing of import to share with them.”

“He’s right,” said Hasan, “I trust the captain, but the fewer people we involve in this the better.”

I frowned, and crossed my own arms over my chest. I was growing a little tired of everyone insisting that I lead, yet no one ever, even once, supporting my decisions.

“All right,” I said. “So we make it ashore. Then what? We don’t even know which direction to begin walking in! Would you rather ask Captain Cyrus, or some random stranger?”

“Let’s not give him our destination,” said Ania. “Let’s just ask him about the lighthouse.”

We all three stared at her as if she were insane. The lighthouse _was_ our destination. But it took me a moment to realize—the captain still didn’t know that.

“Oh,” said Eleanor, evidently coming to the same conclusion as me.

“The lighthouse?” said Cyrus, frowning. “There’s only one that I know of near here. It should be further down the shore, closer to Farrun.”

“Great,” said Ania. “That should at least give us a general idea on where to go.”

The others all looked to me again before I finally nodded. Cyrus met my eyes and nodded back.

“Very well. We’re going to make for the shore. We should be there in less than half an hour. Be ready.”

We returned to our cabin to pack our things, though there really wasn’t much to pack. We realized, too, that we would need provisions, so Eleanor and I set off for the mess hall, where we raided the ship’s pantry—with the cook’s permission, of course—filling a rucksack with water skins, fruit, a few root vegetables, some bread, and dried meats. Ania and Hasan were tasked with hunting down more practical items: bedrolls, for example, and supplies to erect a tent.

Soon it was time. It actually began to rain again as we all carefully boarded the skiff, though I think this rain was of the more natural sort. I was the last to board, allowing the other three to go before me before turning to face the captain.

“Thank you,” I said. “And I don’t mean that… as anyone important. I just mean it for myself. And for the people I care about.”

He smiled.

“A chance to return to the sea for one last time is a small price to pay in exchange for services rendered to a _not very important_ person my daughter is unusually fond of,” he said. “Our jarl chose well, Casien Yedlin. It has been an honor.”

“Tell Ysme I’m sorry,” I said. “I know she wanted to come, and Hanna, too. I’m sure you’ll see her again before we will.”

He nodded, then gestured for me to reach for the rope ladder. I did so, with his assistance, and began climbing down. I was nervous to do so, clinging to the non-too-stable ladder with the skiff still a few feet below me. Fortunately, Hasan was standing and waiting for me, grabbing me by the arm and holding me firmly until I was on my feet again.

The skiff jerked, and we all sat down quickly. The sailors began to lower it into the water. Hasan took up position behind the oars, Ania promising to relieve him if he grew tired. I sat beside Eleanor and gazed back up into the weathered face of Ysme’s father, rain droplets pelting my own face, until the curve of the ship made it no longer possible to see him.

The skiff hit the water with a sharp splash. We released the tethers, the sailors rapidly pulling them back up. Hasan resituated himself behind the oars, and we were off.


	7. Chapter 7

We were all quite damp by the time we made it to shore, even despite the oil-slicked cloaks we were wearing, for the wind blew the light rain sideways, drenching our clothes and faces. Hasan and Ania hopped out and pulled the skiff all the way up the shore, and only then did Eleanor and I carefully climb out.

“There,” said Hasan, pointing to an overhanging rock face, where the small space below would shield us temporarily from the rain. 

“Wait,” I said, as we all began to shoulder our packs.

The others all turned to look at me.

“We shouldn’t stop here. If we build a fire, it can be seen from the sea.” I looked at them, hoping they would see reason. “If whoever’s chasing us suspects we’ve left the Valiant, they may come looking for us.”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Eleanor. She looked terribly miserable already, and I couldn’t help feeling guilty for asking her to come along.

“At least head further inland,” I said. “Seek shelter there.”

Hasan glanced back at the overhang, then up at the sky, then back at me. He frowned. Of course, I knew exactly what he was thinking, and I couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped me.

“I’m not going to fall ill from a bit of rain, Hasan,” I said. “We can keep going.”

“He’s right,” agreed Ania. “And we need to get rid of the boat, too.”

That proved to be a bit of an issue. The shoreline banked steeply after a few feet; there was nowhere nearby to hide the skiff, and no way the four of us could conceivably haul it up the steep bank. The tree line touched the shore much further to the east and west of us, but we would probably have to get back into the boat and make our way there, and that in and of itself might prove troublesome, since the waves would naturally keep pushing the boat towards the shoreline.

The waves… I looked out at them, the voices of the others arguing back and forth fading out for a moment.

Of course!

“We hide it!” I said, interrupting whatever patient explanation Hasan was giving for why they shouldn’t use their weapons to simply smash the boat to a pulp (Ania’s idea) or use my magic to light the whole thing on fire (also Ania’s idea).

“Hide it?” asked Eleanor. “I thought we already decided that was impossible. The boat’s too heavy to—

“No, I don’t mean hide it up _there_.” I turned to nod back towards the ocean. “Hide it out _there._ ”

“You mean sink it,” said Ania. “Huh. Seems a waste of a good boat.”

I shrugged.

“We’re sort of pressed for time, and I can’t think of anything better. Can you?”

“What about the tide?” said Hasan. “Suppose we sink the boat. Just our luck, come morning, the water’s receded, and it’s still sitting there on the beach.”

“The tide’s not going out,” I said. “It’s coming in.”

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

“Really. How do you know that?”

“He grew up on an island,” said Eleanor, smiling slowly. I offered her a tiny smile in return.

“Oh, right,” said Ania. “Solstheim. Still, I grew up on the bay and don’t know shit about the tides.”

Hasan rolled his eyes. “She says, surprising no one.”

He ignored Ania sticking her tongue out at him and instead bid her to help him push the boat back out into the water. Meanwhile, Eleanor and I were instructed to collect as many stones as we could. Once the boat was submerged, Ania held it into place while Hasan went back and forth between our stone pile and transferred the stones to the bottom of the boat.

He sighed, straightening as he dumped in the last armload of stones.

“We’ll have to pay Captain Cyrus back for destroying his boat,” he said.

“He’ll understand,” I said, shouldering my pack again. “Come on, let’s go.”

The going was about as miserable as it could possibly be. Northern High Rock is no less chilly, even during summer, than northern Skyrim, and the rain only added to our misery. Our boots sank in the mud, the rain dampened our faces and clothes, and Ania and Hasan were already soaking wet up to their waists. Of course, they were soldiers, so they didn’t complain, but I knew they had to be fiercely uncomfortable.

Finally, after an hour or so of hiking, we came to a bit of a cave—really, not much more than another overhang, though deep enough for us all to scurry inside and have some modicum of shelter, since the rain didn’t seem as if it were going to be letting up anytime soon.

“I’ll go and try to find something to build a fireplace up with,” said Hasan, dropping his pack to the dirt floor. Ania sighed and made a face but rose to assist him.

Meanwhile, Eleanor and I dug through our packs and quickly changed into some dry clothing.

“What?” I asked, when I caught her giving me a look.

“Nothing,” she said, smiling a little. “You just used to be so shy about things. Now look at you!”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not ‘shy’ just because I have manners. But if my options are _refrain from shielding my friend’s eyes from the sight of my semi-naked body_ and _freeze to death_ , I’ll choose the former.”

The other two returned quickly enough. They both got to work stripping the wet bark from the dead branches they found before building them up to form a base for the fire. Lighting the fire, of course, was my job. I opened my right palm, calling up my little flame, and held it close to one of the branches until the branch caught fire. I did the same for several more, and soon we had a cheerful little fire to huddle up to. We laid our wet things out before it, including our boots, though those would probably take longer to dry than we had time to spare.

“I hate to say it,” said Ania. “But it still freaks me out to watch you do that.”

“Spoken like a true Nord,” said Hasan, rolling his eyes.

Ania frowned and gave him a little shove, but it only made him chuckle.

“Why _are_ Nords so nervous around magic?” I asked. I’d had to stop myself from saying _afraid_ for fear of giving offense. “Is it just on account of the Aldmeri Dominion?”

“I’d say that’s part of it,” said Hasan. “But a lot of it likely has to do with lack of exposure.”

“Most Nords aren’t born magic-users,” said Ania, shrugging. “So we just don’t see it very often. And I guess what you don’t know, you tend not to trust.”

“That probably influenced Nord culture, to a degree,” said Eleanor. “If most can’t rely on magic, they’d turn to physical prowess instead.”

“Well, there were some great mages in our ancient history, but, pretty much,” agreed Ania.

“Is magic much more common among Dunmer?” asked Hasan.

I frowned, for I always hated being asked such questions—as if I were some sort of expert on my own people.

“I don’t think it’s _un_ common,” I finally said. “It certainly wasn’t a problem for me until I came to Windhelm.”

Eleanor glanced quickly at the other two before asking, in a slightly lowered voice, “Do they know…?”

“No, they don’t. My aunt and uncle abandoned me in Windhelm because I was a mage,” I said to Ania and Hasan. “I didn’t learn about it until a few years ago.”

“That’s… awful,” said Ania, blinking in alarm.

“I’m sorry,” said Hasan, and to his credit, he did look truly apologetic. “I didn’t mean to bring up something that would give you pain.”

I shook my head, lowering my eyes absently to the cheerful little fire.

“It’s fine. I was never close to my aunt. I think she always resented having to raise me.” I shrugged. “Me being a mage was just an excuse for her to do what she always wanted to do: offload me somewhere, so she wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.”

“Do you ever think about them?” asked Eleanor after a while, her voice tentative. “Your aunt and uncle. They might even still be in Skyrim somewhere.”

“Not really. I miss my cousins, and I’d kind of like to know what they look like now. They’d be… about Nella’s age, I guess. But,” I shrugged again, a little smile coming to my face, “I have a new family now. People who won’t abandon me just because of who I am. Even if they _are_ a little afraid of me,” I added, teasing.

Ania scoffed. “Afraid of _you_? There’s a joke.”

“Rude!” said Hasan, laughing. “I bet he could take you, one on one.”

“A sword and shield aren’t much match for a massive, all-consuming inferno of fire,” agreed Eleanor.

“Don’t discount the heart and fighting spirit of a true warrior,” said Ania, a fairly stereotypical, haughty Nord look coming to her face. “No mageling can best a true warrior.”

“Well, luckily we’ll never have to find out,” I said, smiling.

Hasan sighed, his momentary good mood seeming to dissipate.

“I think we might as well have our dinner and bed down here for the night,” he said, gazing out at the surrounding wilderness now. “Doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop anytime soon, and the sun will be behind the mountains in an hour or so.”

Dinner consisted of whatever we had scrounged from the Valiant’s pantry. I’m embarrassed to say that I probably ate a little too much of mine; I wasn’t used to fasting, and I’d worked up quite the appetite after everything I’d been through that day. When I looked at what I had left in my pack, I realized that if we didn’t reach our destination within the next three days or so, I was going to be out of food. It wasn’t the end of the world, for surely Ania and Hasan could hunt, so I decided not to mention it just yet.

We spent the next hour or so talking quietly together. No one seemed to want to bring up anything heavy, so Hasan regaled us with stories of his son’s antics (there was an incident that involved a locket that belonged to one of Emrik’s younger aunts—and the toilet, which I found particularly amusing, though I imagine Asgar had not). Ania told stories of all the interesting things she’d encountered while on patrol, and Eleanor and I talked about our life at the college. Before long, the sun had set. The rain had finally stopped as well, though drops of water continued to plop down from the heavy leaves of the surrounding trees.

We rolled out our sleeping bags, Eleanor and myself towards the back, Ania and Hasan in front and on either side of the fire. Hasan offered to take first watch, and Ania second.

“I can take third,” I said, “I mean, if that’s a thing. I’ll probably be up before dawn anyway.”

They both looked at me as if I had just spoken another language.

“You,” said Ania. “Take watch.” She snorted.

“That’s a soldier’s job,” said Hasan, who, as always, was slightly more diplomatic about sharing the same opinion as her.

I rolled my eyes.

“How hard is it to sit here and listen and look? I can do that, even if I’m not a soldier.”

“It isn’t your place,” Hasan began carefully, “to—

“Hang my place!” I snapped. “I’m the same age as Ania, so you can’t use my age against me. I may be an elf, but I’m also a mage. And I may be king’s consort, but the king himself isn’t above soldiering, and neither is his heir, so why should I be treated any differently?”

They were all quiet, blinking silently at me. Even the nearby birds and insects had stopped singing. When a nearby cricket finally started up again, I could feel a tiny flush of warmth rising to my cheeks.

“Sorry,” I stammered, feeling the flush deepen. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, Hasan. Really.”

“Well,” he said carefully, “You make a fair point. I shouldn’t treat you like you’re so far above me—or beneath me—that you can’t help.”

“Okay,” I said, and by now I knew my face was beet red. “But I’m still really sorry for yelling.”

“Apology accepted,” he said, smiling. “And third watch it is. I don’t suppose you want in on the soldiering?” he added, glancing at Eleanor.

“No thanks,” she said. “I’m happy to be treated like an invalid or a princess or whatever, so long as I get to sleep in.”

I lay down that night, trouble still rumbling inside me, wondering where that outburst had come from. Perhaps I was more stressed than I was letting on—more stressed than even I myself realized. I thought of my husband, and what could possibly have befallen him—what could possibly be so dire that Galmar had to write directly to me and insist that I come to meet him at some secret location—and, of course, my eyes immediately filled with tears. What assistance could _I_ possibly offer that no one else could?

Nonetheless, I didn’t cry—I was a teenager no more, and managed to have a firmer control over my emotions these days. But the sour feeling of trepidation settled firmly in my gut and made it difficult for me to fall asleep. By the time Ania woke me, I imagine I’d only managed to catch a couple hours of truly deep sleep. But it was what it was, and I wasn’t about to go back on my promise to help keep watch.

I sat quietly for a good thirty minutes or so, reciting poetry and then alchemy ingredient lists in my head to keep my mind preoccupied. I remained diligently focused on my surroundings though, and listened carefully for what I supposed the telltale signs of pursuit would be: the jingle of armor, the whuffling breath of horses, the snapping of a twig under a boot. Luckily, all I saw and heard were birds, bats, insects, and other late night and early morning creatures.

Once I felt certain Ania had gone back to sleep, I even sang a little, albeit quietly. I’ve never thought of myself as much of a singer, but I loved music, and singing helped me get through the things I often didn’t feel up to completing. I used to sing when I worked, back when I was in service. I was singing when I first met the jarl, and the mortification I felt when I realized he’d been listening still tickled my insides, though in a perhaps far more pleasant way.

I sang _our_ song—the lullaby I had been singing to myself on that fateful afternoon. _I carry your heart with me, my love / wherever you go, I go_. I trailed off, letting the rest of the lyrics die on my tongue. He would always, _always_ have my heart. I blinked, and wiped absently at my eyes.

The sun hadn’t been up for very long before the others began to stir. I offered to gather firewood while they rubbed the sleep from their eyes; Hasan waved me off, though sleepily urged me not to leave their line of sight. Within a few minutes, I had returned and rebuilt the fire back up.

“Okay, who’s the genius who remembered to grab coffee?” Eleanor asked as we all fixed our cups, for the copious rain last night had allowed us to easily refill our water skins.

“That would be me,” said Hasan.

“Blessed be his name,” I muttered, and the others all snorted and shot me amused looks, for my love of coffee (wrongly termed an _addiction_ by my friends and family) was well known.

“Can’t you just use magic to heat the water?” asked Ania, as we all set our cups atop the pile of stones in the middle of the fire so the water would boil.

“Would you trust it if I did?” I asked, smirking when she stuck her tongue out at me.

“That’s more of an enchantment,” said Eleanor. “Which isn’t exactly Casien’s best subject.”

“Thanks.”

She shrugged. “Just being honest. I mean, _I’m_ not holding my cup out just so you can accidentally light my entire hand on fire.”

“Forget I asked,” said Ania, shuddering slightly.

“I’m not _that_ bad at it,” I said, though, to be fair, it was definitely one of my weaker subjects.

The tin cups were rather hot once we plucked them back out of the fire, so we had to let them cool off a bit. Of course that meant the coffee would cool off, as well, so I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and risked a couple of sips, wincing after each one, and ignoring the snorts of my companions.

Soon it was time to pack up and leave. Ania, the most experienced scout among us, led the way, with me behind her. Eleanor trailed behind me, and Hasan brought up the rear. We were truly deep in the wilderness, no towns, villages, or developed land presumably within miles of where we were. It was peaceful, yet unnerving, for we had no way of anticipating what might be just over the next hill.

We also had no idea how far we would have to travel before we reached our destination. My own feet quickly developed blisters, and so did Eleanor’s. My back and shoulders ached from carrying my pack. I felt grimy and oily and smelly, more so than when I usually traveled, for I was normally on horseback and not necessarily exerting myself all that much. Still, I did my best to keep up with my personal hygiene as much as possible. We may have been _roughing it_ through uncharted territory, but I was still determined to have clean teeth and a clean-shaven face. I’m fairly certain Eleanor felt the same way—well, minus the clean-shaven part.

And then came the food situation.

I ran out first. However, the others weren’t far behind me. After my guilty announcement on the night of our third full day, my companions only had enough food to last the following day when split between the four of us. And so far, there hadn’t been so much as a glimmer of a lighthouse on the horizon.

“Well,” I said, plopping heavily down on a rock-outcropping and dropping my pack beside me, “You guys can hunt, right? At least we’ve seen plenty of game.”

We had, too, everything from deer to rabbits to some kind of grouse. We’d also passed all manner of mushrooms and berries; I assumed the two soldiers among us would know which were good to consume and which were best left where we found them.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

“Uh,” said Ania, glancing at Hasan. “Not me.”

Hasan scratched the back of his neck, absently swatting at a fly.

“I’ve seen a few of the hunters set traps before. But beyond that…”

I gaped at them. Apparently, traveling with Hanna and Ysme had spoiled me.

“So, that’s it?” said Eleanor. “We’re going to starve out here?”

“We’re not going to starve,” said Hasan, frowning. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?” asked Ania. “Throw your sword at the next squirrel you see?”

He made a face at her but didn’t respond.

I sighed. Heavily.

“Does anyone have a knife?” I asked. “The smaller the better.”

If there was one thing most soldiers had plenty of, it was blades. Both Hasan and Ania produced a knife; Hasan actually had two. I selected the smallest one, then began to look around me.

“All right,” I said, coming to a sturdy looking sapling. “I need someone to cut this down and whittle off all the branches until it’s pretty smooth. And make it about as tall as I am.”

“You’re making a spear?” ask Hasan, using the larger dagger to hack at the sapling’s base.

“So we’re going to hurl a spear instead of a sword,” said Ania. “That’s better than nothing, I guess.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not going to hurl it at anything. Well, I am, but not out here.”

“How’s this?” asked Hasan, handing me the now smooth trunk of the sapling.

I took it and examined it, holding it in my right hand and letting it balance briefly in my palm. There were a few uneven bumps left, so I used the small knife to slice them away until they were nice and smooth. Then I pressed the hilt of the dagger up against the tip of the spear.

“Anyone have any rope or twine?” I asked. “We can use a vine, but it won’t hold as tightly.”

Not surprisingly, Hasan managed to produce a fair amount of rope, which I was able to unbraid and slice off until I had a nice length of sturdy twine. I was learning that he was the type to always be prepared for anything, even if he didn’t necessarily have the experience that other soldiers his age might have.

I tied the twine around the pole, securing the hilt of the knife to it.

“All right,” I said, “Let’s go find the sea.”

“You’re going fishing?!” asked Eleanor, as we began to make our way inland—we had never strayed far from the shoreline, naturally, since the lighthouse was our ultimate destination. “With a spear?”

“Spear fishing?” said Hasan, and I could hear the question in his voice, even though he was now walking behind me.

“Yep,” I said.

“Riiight,” said Ania. “Grew up on an island.”

I couldn’t help the little smile that crept onto my face, even though I wasn’t at all looking forward to doing this. It had been probably at least 10 years since I’d last been underwater. I’d enjoyed it when I was young; I could spend all morning or afternoon alone, and no one would yell at me for being unproductive when I returned. But as a teenager, I started to resent it, seeing it as just another chore I was forced to do, when what I really wanted was to be back up at school. Of course, I understand now why my aunt had taken me out of school, but it was awfully hard to accept back then.

Fortunately, the shoreline of northern High Rock is generally quite rocky; beaches appear to be something of a rarity. The tide was high, which wasn’t necessarily ideal, but the waves were soft and mellow, so I probably wouldn’t be in any danger.

“Okay,” I said, “We’re looking for a sort of pool. The deeper the better. The tide’s coming in so it’ll most likely still be connected to the rest of the ocean, but that’s all right.”

We found a suitable location, after walking up the shoreline for about twenty minutes. The pool was wide, and bordered by the side of a cliff on its west side, forest to the south, and a rocky outcropping to the east. Now, of course, was the not-so-fun part—me stripping down to my smallclothes while all my bemused friends watched.

“This was a lot less embarrassing when I was 12,” I muttered, using a nearby rock to weigh down my clothes. “Not to mention alone.”

“You’re lovely,” Ania insisted. “10/10, would bang if didn’t have a penis.”

Eleanor snort-laughed; I shot a glare at both of them once I rose back to my feet and hefted my spear. Hasan gave me a friendly clap on the shoulder; his hand felt so warm in contrast to the chilly summer air—this was going to be a miserable experience, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t done before. I suppose you just notice things like temperature a bit more when you’re 24 as opposed to 14.

I made my way along the rock outcropping, leaving the others behind me. Using my toes to cling to the pebbly footing below came back to me as second nature, and I used the spear to help keep me balanced as well. I came towards the edge of the pool; the water seemed to be very deep, though visibility wasn’t great—not ideal fishing conditions, but oh well. If nothing else, I should be able to return with some seaweed and muscles.

I slipped into the water, gritting my teeth against the cold. Once I was underwater, I forced my eyes open, blinking against the initial sting but adjusting quickly as always. To my great delight, the pool appeared to be teaming with life. After my initial arrival, the fish seemed to shy away for a moment, but they quickly returned. This place was obviously very wild, for they didn’t seem at all frightened of me.

Nevertheless, they moved very quickly, and weren’t very large. My best bet would be to dive deeper, and look for bottom-dwelling fish. If I were lucky, I might encounter a flatfish or two. It became harder to see, the deeper I went, but I had expected that. I waited for my eyesight to adjust, and soon the waving arms of the seaweed and anemones became more visible.

I decided to wait on the seaweed and see if I could catch any fish. I was lucky: there had been no guarantee that the same fish I encountered on Solstheim would be here as well, but I spotted them, half-burying themselves in the sand, both hiding from predators as well as fashioning themselves as the same, waiting, motionless, for their prey to swim by.

They were easy kills. I didn’t like killing things, and I hated to watch them struggle against the tip of my impromptu spear, but we didn’t exactly have much choice. I came up for air after each one, depositing them on the side of a flat rock before dipping back under. Once I had four, I gathered as much seaweed as I could, and was even lucky enough to pluck a few mussels as well. There were also several scuttling mud crabs, but I opted to leave them alone. They tended to be vicious, territorial creatures, and didn’t yield very much meat anyway.

I shivered as I made my way back to the others, the spear tucked under one arm, my prizes gathered against my chest and in danger of overflowing. I dumped it all on the ground as soon as I reached them, and began frantically reaching for my clothes.

“Wait!” said Eleanor. “Dry off first! Otherwise your clothes will be wet, too.” She pulled her blanket free from her pack and wrapped me in it, rubbing my arms and shoulders vigorously while I just stood there and shivered miserably.

“Let’s wrap his hair up in the scarf again,” suggested Ania. “That’ll keep it from dripping all over him.”

Soon I was dressed and wrapped up in my own blanket, sitting with my knees tucked in close while the others examined the fruits of my labor.

“You certainly are a man of many talents,” said Hasan, flashing me a little smile.

“Thanks,” I said. “Though I’m not sure ‘fishing’ and ‘lighting fires’ counts as _many_.”

“How do we eat this stuff anyway?” asked Ania, picking up one of the flatfish and making a face at it.

“You just have to debone it,” I said. “It’s not hard.”

And so we feasted on mussels and fish for the next few days, courtesy of the only experienced fisherman among the lot of us. Sometimes I found clams, too, and there were edible anemones, and once an eel (though only myself and Hasan dared to sample it). Once I was just very unlucky, and we had to munch on dried seaweed for our dinner. The most entertaining dinner of all was when Ania declared she was tired of fish and marched off into the wilderness with my spear. To our amazement, she returned, triumphant, with a single hare. That triumph and amazement dissipated somewhat when we all realized that none of us really had any experience in skinning and dressing a kill. Hasan and Ania had seen it done before, of course, so they volunteered to attempt it. Eleanor and I excused ourselves, mostly because the sight of a skinned hare sent the bile rumbling up through my stomach. The finished product wasn’t pretty, but at least we had something besides fish to eat that night.

I began to lose track of the days and nights. The captain had given us a map of northern High Rock, and Eleanor, who knew the geography the best, thanks to her Breton schooling as a child, did her best to try and help figure out where we were. But we were, for the most part, definitively lost. All we knew to do was to keep hiking west, and hope we would eventually spot the lighthouse looming over the rocky shoreline.

And then, one chilly, overcast morning, we did.

It was much taller than I had been imagining—I had never seen a lighthouse, surprisingly, even despite where I’d grown up. It stood at the top of a very sheer cliff, waves crashing against the battered cliff side below. The sea was much wilder here—I would never have been able to fish here, for my body would have likely been immediately dashed against the rocks. The lighthouse itself stretched up towards the sky, higher than any of the surrounding trees. It was painted white, windows here and there outlined in red. At the top stood an immense brazier, though it was unlit, as it was close to the middle of the day, and visibility was high despite the cloudiness of the sky, and no fog obscured the rocks beneath the waves.

“We made it,” said Ania, her murmured words almost eaten by the roar of the crashing waves.

“Gods only know what’ll be waiting for us,” said Hasan, and I noticed his, and then Ania’s, hands both came to rest instinctively on their sword hilts.

“You think it could be a trap?” asked Eleanor.

“We know that was Galmar who wrote that letter,” I said. “But we still don’t know what happened to him or the king. And we don’t know what could have happened since he sent the letter.”

“Well,” said Hasan, still gazing up at the lighthouse, “There’s only one way to find out.”

We hiked as quietly and carefully as possible up the cliff. It took nearly an hour, and we were quite exhausted by the end of it, probably because we had been mostly subsisting on the meager fruits of my labor for the past several days, and none of us had really been getting a good night’s rest. Hiking up a steep cliff—we avoided the main path carved into the side of the hill—when we were already exhausted was almost enough to make us all throw caution to the wind.

There was no way to approach the lighthouse through subtly or subterfuge, for the grounds around it were cleared out and well-maintained. I could see the smoke coming from one of the lower windows and guessed that must have been the kitchen or a fireplace—which meant that the place was occupied.

“All right,” said Eleanor after a while, “Just how long are we going to crouch here and stare at it?”

“You want to go first?” asked Ania.

“Oh, sure. I mean, you’re a soldier and the future jarl of Windhelm, but the assistant librarian should be the one to lead the approach.”

“Would you both be quiet?” snapped Hasan. “I’m trying to think.”

“Think as hard as you like, boy,” came a familiar gruff voice from behind us. “It doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere, does it?”

We all whirled around in alarm—and there, standing behind us, his arms crossed over his chest and a grim smile on his face—was Galmar Stone-Fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My initial plans were to post updates much more frequently than once a week. However, what I didn't count on was the emotional toll this story would take on me. I can still absolutely promise a happy ending (no spoilers; it's in the tags!), but I won't lie, guys. Writing this has been rough. So forgive me if these updates aren't as frequent as we'd all like them to be!


	8. Chapter 8

“Father!”

Ania’s outburst cracked at something in my heart—like choking on relief and dread at the same time. She ran to him, then, throwing her arms around him. Galmar brought his arms up and folded them around his daughter, his gruff expression softening ever so slightly.

“There, there, girl,” he said, one of his big hands giving her a few quick pats. “Didn’t think I was dead, did you?”

“No,” she said, pulling back and sniffing, running the back of her arm quickly across her nose. “It’s just—

“Your letter,” I said. “It was so cryptic. We didn’t know what to think!”

Galmar nodded but offered no immediate explanation. His eyes wandered over the rest of us before coming back to me.

“These are all you’ve brought?”

I nodded.

“Good. Come with me, then. It’s not safe to stand out here blathering where anyone could hear us.”

He strode past us then without another word; we all four exchanged a look before I turned to follow him. Ania hurried past me to catch up to her father; she began peppering him with questions, but he bid her to keep her mouth shut for now, and reiterated his earlier comment about the necessity of secrecy.

The bottom floor of the lighthouse was small but cozy. Old rugs lay over the stone floor, and soft, comfortable chairs and couches faced a cheerful little fire. There was a cooking area on the opposite end of the fireplace, complete with stove, countertop, and oven. The oven didn’t appear to be lit, nor had it been in some time, and I suspected that could only mean that no family lived here—who, then, maintained the lighthouse?

I started at the sound of the door being bolted. Galmar cast me a grim look before nodding towards the living area. I went and took a seat on one of the couches next to Eleanor.

“The king,” I said, as soon as Galmar joined us, “Where is he?”

He shook his head at me.

“Patience, lad. All in good time.”

But that wasn’t the answer I needed to hear right now. Not after all this. Not after everything we’d been through.

“Galmar,” I said, standing up suddenly and glaring down at him from across the small room. “I’ve traveled farther than I’ve ever traveled before in my life. I haven’t come all this way for you to _not_ tell me _where my husband is_!”

The last few words came out all in a rush, and I rather spit them out through clenched teeth, my fingers likewise clenching into fists. I could feel tears gathering in my eyes, as well, but I blinked them back, and continued to glare down at my husband’s oldest and dearest friend.

Galmar sighed.

“He was taken,” he said.

“By whom?” I demanded. “Where is he being held? Why aren’t we trying to find him right this instant?!”

“Casien,” said Hasan.

He rose up after a second and come to stand before me, resting a hand gently but firmly on my shoulder. I started at his touch, and looked up, meeting his eyes.

“Let the general tell his story,” he urged. “You know he cares more for the jarl than anyone else, excepting yourself, of course.”

I blinked, sudden shame for my outburst yet again washing over me. After a moment, I nodded and sank slowly back down into the couch. Eleanor gave me a worried look, but I lowered my eyes and shook my head.

“I know you’re anxious,” said Galmar. “We all are. But no one’s been waiting as long as I have. I’ve been sitting in this damned place for weeks now, twiddling my thumbs.”

“You were waiting for us?” asked Ania.

“Aye. But I’ll get to that part.”

He sat back in his chair, his eyes narrowing at us all.

“You lot look like filth, by the way. Could use a bath, too. I can smell you all from here.”

I noticed Eleanor blush before discreetly sniffing at her own armpit.

“But I suppose a bath can wait. Bet you’re famished though.”

He got up again and made his way over towards the kitchen. From there, he started piling food on top of a pair of large, wooden plates. It was all hardy, stall-bought stuff: bread, whole fruits, cured strips of meat and blocks of cheese. He set the plates down on the small table sitting between the couches and chairs; we were all already reaching for the food by the time he straightened and returned to fetch four cups and a pitcher of water.

“Now,” he said, sitting down again. “Where was I?”

“At the beginning,” said Ania, her mouth full of bread, meat, and cheese.

He shot her a look, something like fond amusement in his eyes. I don’t think I’d ever seen him look at any of his children like that, and it quite honestly choked me up a bit.

“All right. The beginning it is.

“The jarl was in a mood even before we left, though that’ll not surprise you, I’d imagine. He wanted nothing more than to wait for your return,” he said, nodding at me. “It tore him to pieces that he wouldn’t get to see you before leaving, but Lia and I convinced him that we needed to go. Of course, at the time I was only thinking of not pissing off the fucking king of Farrun, seeing as how he was supposedly offering himself up as an ally to us. But hindsight, as they say, is everything.

“You know I like to refer to you as his distraction. And so you are, in the best ways possible, for before you came along, he was moodier than a tailless cat. But it works against him, too, as it did during the war, and I cautioned him again, once we set sail and began to make our way here. Told him he was just going to have to get used to this sort of thing, just as I have.”

“Oh, Father…” began Ania, frowning, and I wasn’t sure whether she felt sorry for her parents for enduring many such long separations, or sorry for her uncle, whose melancholy her father seemed to have little patience for.

“Hush, girl,” said Galmar. “Your mother and I are used to it. But these two aren’t, and it’s going to take time until they are. If they ever are.

“In any case, it was a miserable journey. I think that’s the reason why none of us were expecting anything to happen. I’m no seaman, but we should have been more cautious. Should have had a scout ship, for one. But we didn’t, and we weren’t.

“We were only a day or so out from Farrun when the fog rolled in. Unnatural stuff, blanketing the waters like snow. And the sea itself went suddenly calm as a babe at its mother’s tit. No wind in the sails whatsoever. We were dead in the water.

“Our people were baffled, but no one was more on edge than the jarl himself. He kept looking to the horizon, from the direction the fog had come from. I asked him what he expected to see, but he wouldn’t answer. I’d had about enough of his piss poor mood, though, and didn’t press him on it, just left him to brood to his heart’s content. I was halfway to the captain to inquire about the weather when they suddenly appeared.”

“Who?” asked Eleanor, breathless.

“Ships,” said Galmar. “Not quite a fleet, but a whole fucking legion of ‘em. Flying no banner, but they were too sleek and too organized to be pirates. That’s when I put two and two together: the fog, the wind, the ships—it was no coincidence.”

“Magic,” I breathed.

He nodded at me.

“Aye. Magic. And he knew, bless him. He knew all along that something wasn’t right, and he was waiting for it, but when it came, he realized there wasn’t a godsdamned thing he could do about it. Surrender was inevitable; our people would protest, but they’d be throwing their lives away for nothing. We hadn’t a hope and a prayer of withstanding an assault from so many enemy ships, and if they had magic at their disposal? It was a done deal for us.

“So then, if you can believe this, he turns to me and tells me, _Into the water with you, old friend. I need you to swim._ I stared at him and asked him if he was out of his fucking mind—he wanted me to throw myself overboard, abandon him to whoever these fucking bastards were? Absolutely not. If anyone should escape, it should be him. But he was the one they were surely after, he said. And he wouldn’t abandon his men and women to save himself. Our only hope of getting out of this, whatever this was, then, was me. I was to swim to shore and seek help however I could.

“Of course, I obeyed. I always obey his orders, the stubborn ass. So there I am, stripped of my armor, weapons, and boots, only a couple blades strapped to me here and there, abandoning my jarl so I could swim to shore and save my own ass like a coward.”

“Wait,” said Hasan, “You swam _all the way_ from the ship to the shore of High Rock? That’s surely impossible, no matter how close to the shore you may have been.”

“Father was a champion swimmer when he was young,” said Ania, tossing her father a smug, proud look. “Swam across the entire river at its widest point. Won some sort of award, too.”

“White River Champion,” said Galmar, puffing up his chest a bit. “Aye, I was a swimmer in my day, but that was damn near 30 years ago now. I’ve never been so tired in my life as when I crawled onto that rocky shore. I looked behind me, but couldn’t see much through the fog; I had to assume the ship had been boarded. But it was the fog what saved my own life, and allowed me to escape unseen.

“Where to go was the next part to figure out. There hadn’t been time for specifics, so I hadn’t any orders and was forced to decide on my own what course to take. I couldn’t linger where I was; I was barely half a day’s walk from the city proper, and there were settlements everywhere. I had no idea whether our attackers would be aware that I had escaped and if anyone would be looking for me, but I had to assume they would be.

“In the end, I relieved some poor fool of the clothes on his line, dressed myself up in foreign garb, grabbed some ill-fitting boots off someone’s back porch, and made my way to the city. I didn’t see what other choice I had. There wouldn’t be much point to send for aid if I hadn’t a fucking clue who was responsible, and I didn’t see how I was to figure that out without actually arriving at Farrun. I even considered marching straight into that King Alain’s court and demanding to know what the fuck was going on.”

“That wouldn’t have been very prudent,” I said, alarmed that he would even consider doing something so dangerous.

“Oh, and you’re the epitome of prudence?” he said, raising a brow at me. “Jumped down my throat the second you came in here and demanded that we scurry off to rescue the jarl—without knowing fuck all what’s happened, I might point out.”

I must have rather wilted under such justifiable condemnation, for his look softened, and he gave a little puff of a laugh.

“Oh, you’re all right, boy. But I was in a bad situation, and my feelings were high—forced to abandon my jarl, alone in a foreign land, no weapons or armor, possibly being pursued by an unknown enemy.” He shook his head. “Give me an army to fight, a strategy to plan, and an enemy to kill. But this? I was out of my element.”

“Fortunately, you managed to run into me.”

We all looked up in alarm towards the person now making his way down the lighthouse’s circular staircase. He was wearing loose clothing and a dressing gown, and looked as though he’d just been woken from a nap. I hadn’t seen him for many months, not since leaving Winterhold—and certainly, this was the last place I’d _ever_ expected to run into the likes of him.

“Nelacar!” I said, rising to my feet in surprise.

“Well, you do know him, then!” said Galmar, sitting back with a huff. “ _That’s_ a bloody fucking relief.”

Nelacar quirked a smile and finished descending the stairs before coming to join us in the living area. I slowly sank back down into my seat, still unable to believe that he was here.

“It is good to see you both,” he said, looking at me and Eleanor. “I hope your other little friend is…?”

“She stayed in Windhelm,” I said. “I didn’t want to take too many people.”

“Your letter would have had Casien travel alone, General,” said Hasan, and, not surprisingly, he seemed the least disturbed to see Nelacar here, for he neither knew him, nor did he have his sister-in-law’s natural suspicion towards all Altmer.

“And you disapprove?” Galmar arched a brow at his son-in-law, then gave a rueful chuckle. “Believe it or not, it was for his own protection. But I’ll get to that part of the story soon enough, I promise.”

“You certainly take your time telling it,” said Nelacar. “And were you not going to wake me and alert me to the fact that we have guests?”

Galmar rolled his eyes but didn’t respond.

“Who is this man?” Ania finally demanded. “How do we know we can trust him?”

“We can trust him,” I said. “He’s from the college.”

“Yes, and no,” said Nelacar, tilting his head slightly.

I gave him a questioning look.

“I wouldn’t say I trust him entirely,” said Galmar. “But he has his reasons for doing what he’s doing.”

“How did you meet?” I asked. “Was it really just coincidence?”

“And what are you doing in High Rock, anyway?” asked Eleanor, and I recalled that she had never really cared for Nelacar—had never fully trusted him, even after he’d helped us rescue our professors and fellow students nearly five years ago.

“All in good time, my dear,” said Nelacar. “Yes, I am ‘of the college,’ so to speak, or as much as Savos will allow me to be. But I must confess that there are reasons beyond my old friendship with Malyn that have forced him to keep me at arm’s length. You see, in my youth, I was recruited by the Thalmor.”

He paused, then, and seemed to wait patiently for us to have our various reactions to such a revelation; Eleanor and I both gasped, and Ania muttered something I knew her mother wouldn’t approve of. Both she and Hasan had their hands on their weapons now.

“Not saying I’ll stop you if you try,” said Galmar, giving his daughter and son-in-law a rather amused look. “But knock his head off his shoulders and you’ll make our job a hundred times harder, if not impossible.”

“Quite,” said Nelacar, his voice dry. “Rest assured, I am no longer with them, though they certainly are not aware of my defection. I am, technically, a double agent, if you will, and have been for several decades now. There are many of us, former members of that august organization who have found its practices and motivations to be too foul to support. And so, we offer our services to those who should be allies, not enemies, of our people. We technically remain Thalmor, but we feed information to our friends and work to thwart the Dominion’s efforts from the inside-out.”

“And Professor Aren knows all this,” said Eleanor, narrowing her eyes.

“He does,” said Nelacar.

“And Professor Mirabelle? And all the professors?”

Nelacar shook his head.

“I do not know who knows and who doesn’t, my dear. That is for Savos to decide. But my information has saved more than one life over the years, including the lives of those at the college. Unfortunately, when I learned of the Dominion’s plans to capture the High King of Skyrim, I was far too late to do anything about it.”

“So the Dominion have him,” I said, and I could feel all the blood draining from my face—it happened so swiftly, I began to feel almost faint.

Galmar nodded.

“Aye, that they do. But we’re going to get him back. And you’re at the heart of that plan, so keep your chin up.”

I nodded, though his words of encouragement did little to fill me with hope.

“I come here,” said Nelacar, “every few years, allegedly to report in to my superiors. There is, you see, a covert Thalmor headquarters located within the heart of Farrun.”

“Are there many such headquarters?” ask Hasan, looking suddenly alarmed. “And in non-Dominion or Imperial controlled countries, as well?”

“There are,” said Nelacar.

“Are there any in Skyrim?” demanded Ania.

He shook his head.

“Of that, I am afraid I am not at liberty to say.”

“Don’t worry,” said Galmar. “We’ll get him to talk once we’ve rescued the jarl. But for now, we need his cooperation. And he needs ours.”

Ania bristled visibly, but appeared willing to let the issue drop—for now.

“As I was saying,” continued Nelacar, “I had already arrived here for my usual check-in when I learned of the Dominion’s plans. It was rather distressing news, for—forgive me,” he said to me, “though I’ve no direct interest in the personal welfare of the High King, I knew that these plans would endanger the well-being of countless millions. I didn’t yet know precisely what they intended to do with him, but whatever it was, it would not be good for the people of Skyrim.”

“And you actually care about the people of Skyrim,” scoffed Ania.

“I care about _all_ people, my dear. I love my country, my people, and my culture, but I do not believe any of it is inherently superior to anyone else’s. I believe all people have the right to live their lives in peace, and at present, the Dominion does not seem to agree with that sentiment. Therefore, I do everything that I can to prevent them from achieving their goals.

“Well, I had only been in town a few days, had made my check-in, but had not yet secured a place to stay for any length of time. Normally, I like to travel east to Jehanna and spend a few months at the university there, but naturally I didn’t feel I could leave the city with this awful news hanging over me. It was then that I recalled the lighthouse that sat on top of the hill about a day’s walk out from the city. It would offer me the perfect vantage point to look for the ship that would bring your king here to Farrun—for by then I knew exactly how they planned to capture him, and I knew of the false letter which had been sent in the name of King Alain.”

“So King Alain doesn’t have anything to do with this,” I said.

“He is blameless, so far as I can tell, not to mention completely ignorant of the matter. The Thalmor made sure to capture Ulfric’s ship out at sea, and to never allow him to set foot in Farrun—well, not unless he were brought here secretly as their prisoner, of course. So, I spoke to the old couple who lived here and offered to rent the lighthouse from them for the next several weeks. For the amount of gold I offered them, I hardly expected them to refuse my offer, and luckily for me, they did not. And so I set up camp here, telling my supposed superiors—for they do like to keep track of the whereabouts of their alleged spies, you know—that I was too tired to travel east, as was my wont, and that I preferred to relax here for the next month or so.”

“I was thus witness to the entire thing,” he continued, his expression becoming slightly drawn. “I saw the ships begin to approach from the west. I saw High King Ulfric’s ship, still leagues away, sailing guilelessly into their trap. I had run through a gamut of possibilities, ideas, ways to alert them to the coming danger, but I could settle on nothing that would prevent the Thalmor from getting what they wanted without jeopardizing my own position.”

“Selfish,” growled Ania.

“I can see how you might see it that way, of course. But we defectors are few and far between. The positions we hold in society are carefully crafted. To lose one of our number is a difficult thing, and we often cannot recover from it.”

“ _Now_ who’s taking his sweet time spinning a Nine-damned yarn,” said Galmar. “Long story short, I ran into this one not thirty minutes into my little jaunt through the city. Got a fucking memory like a horse, he has, to have recognized my face after so many years.”

“You met in Winterhold,” I said, realizing. “Five years ago. When the jarl came to… well, to propose.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“Only you could still blush over your husband proposing to you,” she muttered, “after being married to him for four years.”

I huffed and elbowed her in the side; she smirked and elbowed me back.

“I guess you have a very memorable face, General,” said Hasan, smiling slightly.

“That, or the wily bastard knew I was coming,” said Galmar. “Saw the whole thing through that fancy Dwemer contraption of his, but didn’t spot me jumping over the side of the ship and swimming for my life to shore? Bullshit.”

Nelacar only smiled.

“Suffice it to say,” he said, taking up his tale again, “I convinced General Galmar to return with me to the lighthouse. I could see he clearly did not trust me, but such distrust was warranted, considering all that had happened.”

“I hadn’t much choice, had I?” said Galmar. “I was prepared to gut you, should you show the first sign of betrayal. But so far, you were the only lead I had.”

“Indeed. And your jarl was clever to send you overboard. I truly do not know how this would have ended if I hadn’t found you.”

“So here’s the long and short of it,” said Galmar, leaning forward so his elbows came to rest on his knees. He was looking at all of us, but at me in particular. “They’ve put some sort of spell over him. Magic bullshit. Trying to break his mind, bend him to their will—try to change him, just as they tried 20 years ago, but it’ll take time apparently.”

My fingers gripped the cushion beneath me, and I felt as if I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I tried to swallow, but couldn’t.

“Change him,” I said, blinking. I felt Eleanor’s hand come to rest over mine.

“Aye. It’s the sort of thing you can’t easily break a man out of, so this one tells me. And between the two of us, we’ve come up with the idea that the only one who _can_ break him out is you.”

I started.

“Me?”

Nelacar nodded.

“The Thalmor use a branch of magic similar to illusion, but it is far more complicated than that. They enter their subject’s mind, consume his thoughts, introduce new ones that shouldn’t be there. This process can take months, particularly for a very strong-willed individual such as your king. Once he is broken, he is theirs. They may use him however they like.”

“He becomes a puppet,” said Hasan, dawning horror in his eyes. “ _Their_ puppet.”

“Yes. And they could, conceivably, continue to manipulate his thoughts and his actions from afar, though it is far more likely that they would have an agent waiting in Windhelm so that their hold on him would not loosen.”

“So…” I paused, taking a moment to steady my feelings. “What can _I_ do?”

“You are your adopted country’s only hope, my dear. Galmar assures me that the jarl loves none so great as he loves you, and that if anyone can pierce through the fog surrounding his mind, convince him to leave his captors, and follow us to safety, it is you.”

“Wait a second,” said Eleanor. “You two want Casien to break into wherever it is they’re holding the jarl and—do what? Wave his hands in front of his face? Kiss him like he’s a prince in a Breton fairytale? And just how dangerous will this be?”

“Very dangerous,” said Nelacar. “We will be entering Thalmor headquarters.”

“He won’t be going alone,” said Ania, and beside her, Hasan nodded.

“No,” agreed Nelacar. “I will accompany him.”

“ _You_?”

Ania almost rose up out of her seat, and she might have, had Hasan not quickly rested a hand over her shoulder—though he looked nearly as upset as she did.

“We don’t know you!” she spat. “You just admitted you’re a former Thalmor spy, and now you _claim_ you’ve defected. You really think we’re just going to let you take Casien from us like that? Father!” She turned to him now, beseeching. “You can’t agree with this!”

But Galmar just shook his head.

“It’s the only way, girl. Believe me, I don’t like it either. In truth, none of you save Casien was ever meant to come here anyway. We knew the fucking elves would be watching everyone in Windhelm. The boy couldn’t be seen leaving with an entire fucking armed battalion around him. I tried to make it apparent that he couldn’t be seen leaving at all.”

“You did,” I said, somehow, miraculously, finding my voice again. “We tried to leave as surreptitiously as we could. But we were forced to abandon our own ship when a storm appeared out of nowhere.”

“Magic again,” supplied Eleanor.

“That would be the blockade,” said Nelacar. “I am rather astonished to hear that it seems the Thalmor either didn’t know of your departure or learned of it too late, and were unable to track you. The storm is intended to herd all incoming ships from the east so that they can pass through an Imperial checkpoint—ostensibly for security reasons, of course, but they’ll really be looking for individuals such as yourselves. I suspect they, too, will have learned by now, through their probing of the jarl’s mind, that there is but one person who could potentially loosen their stranglehold on their captive.”

“But suppose they were successful,” said Hasan. “What would they have done, once they released the jarl and allowed him to return to Windhelm? Wouldn’t contact with Casien potentially thwart their plans then, as well?”

“Potentially,” agreed Nelacar.

“That would be quite a risk on their part.”

“No risk,” I said, realizing suddenly. I swallowed. “They would have had me killed. Somehow or other.”

“They won’t get that chance now,” said Galmar. “We’ve so far managed to thwart their plans pretty handily, so I wouldn’t hang my thoughts on that if I were you.”

“Sounds like they’ll get their damned chance when we let Master Mysterious here take Casien into the den of vipers itself,” grumbled Ania.

“I, of course, am permitted to enter the stronghold freely,” said Nelacar. “I will protect Lord Casien for as long as I can. He will not be spotted.”

Galmar sat back again in his chair, a long, heavy sigh escaping him.

“The truth is, he’d absolutely murder me for getting you involved in this. Even if his own life were on the line, he’d have forbidden me from putting you in such danger. But I truly can’t see any other way to go about it.”

I was silent for a while, and so were all the others. I think we all knew Galmar to be correct. My husband’s overprotective tendencies towards me were, at this point, almost legendary. And I supposed I didn’t always make things easy on him, always leaping headfirst into trouble if I had even the slightest inkling that something I could do could be helpful.

“Your letter,” I said after a while, my voice quiet.

He looked up at me in question.

I smiled.

“The poem. How did you know I would recognize it?”

His troubled expression seemed to fade, if only for a moment, and a small smile even began to spread over his face.

“Thought you’d be wondering about that. Well, we passed the lighthouse, oh, not more than an hour before the ships appeared. He pointed it out to me. Said it reminded him of you, one of your favorite little poems or some such thing. Came from the book he first gave you, back when you were both being stubborn as a pair of mules and driving the rest of us to the bottle from having to deal with your nonsense.”

“That was just you, Father,” said Ania. “ _I_ thought they were adorable.”

Galmar snorted under his breath.

“Recited the whole thing from memory, he did. Said you could do the same. That you used to read it, and the rest of ‘em, out loud to him.” He shrugged. “Suppose I’m lucky it stuck with me. ‘Storm’s end.’ Pretty turn of phrase, I’ll give it that.”

“It seems like such a risk,” I said. “Assuming I’d know what you meant.”

“No, lad. Not the way he spoke of it, and of you. I knew you’d get it. You’re a clever one; he’s always saying as much, and I won’t disagree with him on that.”

“So if this is so dangerous,” said Ania, “and Casien is really the only one who can rescue Uncle—why say in your letter that I should accompany him?”

“Well, he didn’t,” Hasan pointed out. “I believe he said to take you _if he must_.”

Galmar barked out a laugh.

“Yet I knew she’d insist on coming, soon as she read that. And as to why.” He shrugged. “I knew Lia wouldn’t allow him to go off on his own; I hadn’t much fear of that happening. Yet I had to make it clear how important it was that you not be seen leaving.” He shrugged. “A large party would’ve made that impossible.

“And…” He sat back, arms folding over his chest, his brow furrowing slightly. “I suppose there was some part of me that felt guilty for doing something he would have expressly forbidden—sending for you, that is,” he said, nodding at me. “So maybe the only way to make the situation fair was to involve someone I loved as well.”

Ania looked momentarily stunned. Then she seemed to flush, her father’s admission clearly embarrassing her.

Beside her, though, Hasan looked strangely subdued. I recalled what he’d told me, then, the evening we’d shipped out from Windhelm: how important it was for him to do this, to prove to everyone around him that he deserved to be a part of this family.

Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Nevertheless, I’m glad you’re here,” said Galmar. “Both of you.” He nodded at his son-in-law. “It may have increased the odds of your being noticed, but in the end, it was the right call.”

“It was Casien’s call,” said Hasan, clearly trying to not look as affected by his father-in-law’s words as he truly was. “Lady Lia put him in charge of this entire expedition.”

“Did she.” A slight smile crossed Galmar’s face. “Well, I suppose it’s his rightful place, in the grand scheme of things. Didn’t think marrying the jarl would be all kisses and fancy dinners, did you, Distraction?” he added, tossing me a wink and earning a scoff for his troubles.

The others all laughed, and soon the other three were eagerly regaling Galmar with tales of my inept attempts to rule as king’s consort in my husband’s stead—how Lia had to literally guide me every step of the way, how I’d once nearly cried with frustration over the handling of some complex budgetary issue, how eagerly I scampered off to bed at the end of every state dinner (not that _that_ was anything new). Before they could go on for too long, though, Galmar held his hand up and insisted that we all bathe and get some much needed rest, for we all looked as if we hadn’t slept properly in days—which was true.

“But what about Uncle?” asked Ania. “We haven’t even really discussed exactly how Casien is going to save him.”

“And what of our role in all this?” said Hasan. “Assuming Casien succeeds, our next step should be to secure an escape route. I doubt the harbor will be an option.”

“We can discuss all of this later,” said Nelacar. “Though if it will help you rest easier, know that the general and I do have a plan. Perhaps we can reconvene later this evening, once everyone is back to feeling and thinking their best.”

I think we were all too tired to argue. However, as I didn’t think I’d truly be able to sleep after everything I’d learned—now that I knew my husband was being held captive somewhere by Thalmor who were even now viciously attempting to alter his mind—I asked Nelacar if he might show me his “Dwemer contraption,” as Galmar had called it.

With an apparently even mixture of kindness and pity in his eyes, he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Please excuse my clumsy handling of Elder Scrolls politics 😅
> 
> 2\. By the way, I've decided to collect all my Ulfric x Casien mini-fics in one place; you can find and read them [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245847/chapters/45766018).
> 
> 3\. Eleanor x Hanna fans might like [this moodboard](https://66.media.tumblr.com/d5a2f48d1510b2281b7cad1db6d7b9a2/tumblr_ptscl8lHcy1qeum50o1_500.jpg) I made for these two silly girls.


	9. Chapter 9

The contraption was a sort of metal tube, mounted on a tripod, all of it forged from Dwemer metals. I had seen handheld versions carried by Stormcloak scouts before, but this one was far more powerful. It was also enchanted, and this was how Nelacar had managed to see through the fog which had swiftly enveloped the jarl’s ship.

I straightened, after peering through it to watch a seabird pluck a fish from the waves below, and gazed out at the sea. The sun wouldn’t set for a long time this far north, though I supposed it to be already as late as six or seven in the evening.

“There’s something I must tell you.”

I frowned, and looked up at Nelacar, who was still leaning against the low parapet beside me and the contraption. A little smile tugged at his face for a moment, as he looked at me.

“The person leading this… operation, I suppose you might call it?” he continued. “You’ve met him before.”

I blinked.

“I have?”

“Yes. His name is Melaran."

Melaran. It was a name I hadn’t ever expected to really hear again. Nothing had ever come of the manhunt which had been organized after Erikur’s disgrace, but I could admit now that the attempts themselves had been rather half-hearted. We assumed we’d gotten our man—and what further harm could a servant, no matter how loyal, possibly do?

What a shameful thought for one such as me to ever harbor.

“How?” I finally asked. I frowned, shaking my head in disbelief. “… _Why_?”

“He was—is—Thalmor, and has been nearly his entire life. I know him very well, in fact, or at least I did when we were both much younger, when we both believed in the cause as fervently as I am certain he still does now. He was assigned, as you can imagine, to Erikur’s household many years ago. And so he worked diligently, for over a decade, to earn his supposed thane’s trust.”

“And you said there are many others like him,” I said carefully. “Spread throughout Tamriel.”

“So there are. Melaran never knew if he would ever be in a position to forward the cause, so to speak. But then the civil war happened, and later, the moot.”

I reached for the small parapet, resting my hand against the cold, gray brick. I couldn’t have guessed or seen this—yet in retrospect, I felt like such a fool.

“Erikur didn’t kidnap me,” I said. “He did.”

“In a manner of speaking. I have no doubt he managed to convince Erikur that it was his idea in the first place. And their original plans were far more sinister—and rather final.”

“Assassination,” I said, swallowing.

“Ah. You knew of that, did you? Unfortunately for Melaran, Erikur didn’t quite have the stomach for it. I can’t say exactly who the original target might have been, but I suppose it’s all beside the point now. According to Melaran’s reports, it became very obvious that the next High King of Skyrim was utterly besotted with his future husband. Separate you from him, and the chances of him going mad and destroying the entire country in his grief—well, it would make Skyrim quite ripe for invasion, wouldn’t it? Or so the argument was made.”

I was silent for a moment, taking all of this in. Suppose I had not managed to break myself and Elisif free from our cells? It never would have occurred to me that Melaran was the true threat.

“My dear Mr. Yedlin…” He smiled faintly when our eyes met again. “You miss being referred to as such, do you not? A year away from all of this must have been quit the respite.” He sighed. “The reason I tell you all of this is not to upset you, please understand. It is to warn you. Melaran believes now that you have made this personal. Once he learns that _you_ of all people have once again foiled his plans, he will not be pleased. He will be _furious_. He will stop at nothing to track you down. You will undoubtedly have to face him, and you will have to kill him.”

I blinked at him.

“Me?!” I shook my head. “Kill _him_? A Thalmor?”

Nelacar leveled a look at me.

“You are yourself a master-level destruction mage, Lord Casien. No, do not argue with me. I am far better positioned to make such a judgment than _you_ are. Your abilities far outstrip that of any other young mage than I have seen in years. _Decades_. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you are to securing the freedom and lives of those you love.”

I was silent for some time, absorbing all of this—the revelation concerning Melaran, my possible confrontation with him, and Nelacar’s clearly unwavering belief in my innate magical ability—it was a great deal to take in all at once. I felt suddenly exhausted, in a way that I hadn’t been before. But there was also something else brewing inside me: a seething, burning hatred for those who had gone to such lengths to hurt the people of my adopted country, and who even now held my husband captive so that they could torture him until he was my husband no longer.

My hand resting on the mini-parapet clenched, blunt nails scraping against the stone.

Nelacar sighed.

“I am sorry if I seem to be lecturing you. That is not my place.” He gave a rueful little laugh. “I am, technically, not even one of your professors. But, if you’ll allow me one more attempt at ordering you about: go and get some rest. Use the washroom first, it’s the floor just below this one. Then rest your eyes for a bit. Your body, and your mind, will thank you.”

I was too tired—and overwhelmed, probably—to argue. This part of the lighthouse didn’t have anything remotely in the way of indoor plumbing, so the washroom essentially consisted of a spigot that came out of the ceiling and a rope that one pulled to release the trapped rainwater. Perhaps a cold shower was just the thing to take my mind off what I’d just been told. Regardless, all I could think about for the next few minutes was getting warm and dry again; I’m sure I didn’t exactly do the most thorough job of washing myself, but I was too cold to take my time and make sure I’d gotten behind my ears and between all my toes with what remained of the soap—lavender and honey, one of my favorites—I’d packed with me for the journey. Once finished, I hastily dried off and dug through my pack to pull on a marginally cleaner set of clothes, then went downstairs to make use of the outhouse. All of the beds were taken, but Galmar told me to take one of the couches, so I did. He draped a blanket over me—it felt as if an unspoken agreement passed between us then, that neither of us should ever speak of his being so kindly and fatherly towards me in this moment—and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

//

“…always have to be so loud! You’re going to wake him up!”

Eleanor’s voice helped pull me the rest of the way from the dredges of sleep, and I breathed in, a faint smile coming to my face. I was pretty sure I knew who she was talking to.

“Too late,” I said, rubbing my eyes and sitting slowly up. “I’m already awake.”

Eleanor made an annoyed sound deep in her throat before turning to Ania again.

“Seriously, would it _kill_ you to talk at the same level as most normal human beings?”

Ania, who was sitting on the floor with Hasan, what looked like an old board game between them, rolled her eyes.

“Would it kill _you_ to stop nagging everyone for five minutes? No wonder that hot girlfriend of yours dumped you.”

“Ania,” chastised Hasan.

“She didn’t _dump_ me,” said Eleanor, sitting down beside me with a huff. “Technically, I dumped her.”

“Neither of you ‘dumped’ each other,” I said, yawning—there was still a hint of light outside, so I couldn’t have slept more than a couple of hours. “You just stopped talking to each other.”

“Likely story,” snorted Ania.

The front door opened and banged shut then, and we all looked up to see Galmar enter. He had a string of what looked like dead pheasants looped over one shoulder; these he tossed onto the kitchen counter before looking at all of us.

“Good,” he said. “You’re all up.”

“Is it safe for you to go out like that, General?” asked Hasan.

“Probably not, but I’ll be damned if I stay cooped up in here like a fucking maiden in a tower. Nelacar back yet?”

“He arrived only a little while ago,” said Eleanor.

“Go and fetch him, girl, if you don’t mind.”

Galmar got to work plucking the pheasants; he even had them cleaned and ready to be cooked by the time Nelacar descended from downstairs. The two exchanged a look, then Galmar washed his hands before they both came and joined us in the living area.

“What’s that?” asked Ania, as Nelacar knelt before us and rolled out a large piece of parchment onto the low table.

“It is a map of the Thalmor stronghold,” he said. “It is located on the outskirts of the city. The locals know it to be a Dominion building, but they do not necessarily know all that goes on within its walls.”

“How far is it from the city?” asked Hasan.

“Less than a mile,” said Galmar. “Still fairly secluded. But we’ll not be heading that way precisely. We’ll make our stand at a different location.”

“ _You_ will be traveling with me, my boy,” said Nelacar to me. “And you will be wearing this.”

He held up an amulet; it seemed fairly nondescript at first, but I knew from experience that he preferred to enchant items that weren’t really flashy or interesting enough to be noticeable. And the small, blue stone that hung at the center pulsed with warm, soothing magic.

“What is it?” I asked, taking it carefully from him.

“Do not put it on yet, we wouldn’t want to start draining the enchantment. It will render you invisible, though many will still be able to sense your presence. You’ll need to stay as close to me as possible, and hopefully my own presence will somewhat mask your own.”

“Hopefully?” asked Hasan.

“Malyn once said that I was powerful,” I said slowly. “That he could sense my presence—sense where I had been.”

“He spoke truthfully. However, Malyn, too, was an exceptionally powerful mage, and his necromancy only heightened his abilities. You feel the presence of strong magicka when it is near you, do you not? You sense it in me, and in this amulet.”

I nodded.

“Not all mages can do that. Some of the Thalmor will be able to, but if we are lucky,” he glanced at Hasan, who frowned, “they will believe that whatever they are sensing is me—a spell I have recently worked on, perhaps, and its effects still linger about me. This is not an unusual thing, and, so far as I know, no one yet has any reason to suspect that I am no longer one of them.”

“Don’t worry,” I said to Hasan, and to the others, too, who were looking less than reassured. “I trust Nelacar.”

“Glad one of us does,” huffed Ania.

“The hardest part will be navigating the interior of the building. At a certain point, we will pass through a series of wards, and that will nullify any active spells or enchantments—including the amulet’s. From there, I will go one way, and you will go the other, deeper and lower into the stronghold, towards the cells. If we are alone, this shouldn’t be a problem. You should not encounter anyone on your way to the jarl’s cell, for I know at what times they bring him food and water, and when they—well, when they are _working with_ _him_ , to use a gentler phrase than their actions warrant.

“However, in the event that I am not alone, you are to wait for my signal—we shall decide on what that must be later—and from there you must hang back until you are alone. Once I, and whomever is with me, are gone, then you may proceed, pass through the wards, losing your invisibility, and head towards the cells as planned.”

I swallowed and tried to take a deep breath. I could tell from the way he had paused, his eyes meeting mine, that I was not going to like what he had to say next.

“I will have given you the key to his cell. Please understand. When you see him, he will not know you. He may… He may believe that you are one of his torturers, come to taunt or trick him. You will have to do your very best to convince him that you are who you claim to be.”

“How do I do that?” I asked, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

“Talk to him,” said Galmar. “Sit beside him, take his hand, look him in the eye. He has to know it’s you. Speak to him, make him believe. You’re the only one who has even a chance of getting through to him.”

“He will be…” Nelacar seemed to hesitate. “They have not been kind to him,” he continued, his voice gentle. “He will not look as you remember him.”

I nodded, and swallowed, and refused to meet the anxious eyes of my friends and family.

“From there, you will continue in this direction.” His finger traced a line on the map from the cells down the hallway and around another corner, where he tapped at what appeared to be a dead end. “The second key I give you will open a door here that leads to an underground tunnel. Follow it. Be sure to lock the door behind you, though if the king is discovered missing, they will likely send someone into the tunnels anyway. There is only one other exit. There you will find General Galmar and the others.”

“What then?” asked Hasan, frowning down at the map.

“We run,” said Galmar. “We put as much distance between us and those Thalmor bastards as possible.”

Ania frowned. “That doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”

“Should you think of a sounder one,” said Nelacar, without a trace of sarcasm in his voice, “by all means, let us know. But this is what the general and I have come up with. I dare not secure you horses, as it would almost certainly raise suspicion. Attempting to leave the city via the docks would be suicide.” He frowned. “I had suggested petitioning the aid of King Alain, but the general did not agree.”

“Revealing to the world that Skyrim allowed its High King to be taken prisoner by the Thalmor would be an unacceptable risk,” said Hasan, his eyes meeting Galmar’s. “We would be advertising our supposed weakness to all of Tamriel.”

Galmar nodded.

“Right you are, lad. And perhaps if we had more time, we could come up with a surer thing. But we don’t.” He glanced at me, his expression grim. “He can’t wait much longer.”

I knew who he meant by _he_. I swallowed and lowered my eyes.

“And you aren’t coming with us?” asked Eleanor.

Nelacar smiled kindly at her.

“No, my dear, I am not. In fact, my _official_ business at headquarters tomorrow will be to inform my superiors that I have decided to move on to Jehanna after all.”

“Tomorrow!” I looked up, my heart thudding in my chest. “We’re doing all of this tomorrow?”

“The sooner the better,” said Galmar grimly. “The others and I will leave at first light. You two will head out at a more respectable hour. Should give us plenty of time to get into position.”

“I cannot stress how important it is that you not tarry,” said Nelacar, looking at me. “If you are by chance discovered, do not hesitate to strike first.”

“You want me to kill someone in cold blood?” I asked, blinking in shock.

“If you do not react first, they will. How is your ring?”

 I fingered my wedding ring, turning it absently around my finger.

“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s still warm.”

“Good.”

“His ring?” asked Hasan, raising a brow at me, then Nelacar.

“Nelacar placed an enchantment on it,” said Eleanor. “It’s supposed to help focus his magicka.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning Lord Casien is now as lethal and precise at killing as are you, Commander,” said Nelacar. “Perhaps even more lethal.”

I frowned, not exactly enjoying that turn of phrase, and liking even less the prospect of having to demonstrate as much.

“Can’t one of us come with him?” asked Ania, and from the stubborn set of her jaw, I could tell she was still unwilling to let me do this alone. It warmed something in me, despite the cold fear and anxiety now creeping through me. “You could make another one of those invisible necklaces, give it to me. At least then I could watch his back while he’s talking to Uncle.”

Nelacar shook his head.

“Unfortunately, that is not an option. There is a ward placed over the entire compound that is set to go off should a non-mer enter the premises. And yes, before you ask, I am quite certain they should like it to exclude Dunmer and Bosmer, but it seems that particular spell has yet to be perfected.”

“What about Orsimer?” asked Eleanor.

“Ah. It seems our orc cousins are distantly enough related that they, too, are barred from entering. However, as none of _you_ , unless I am greatly mistaken, appear to be Orsimer, the question is rather academic.”

I noticed, then, that Galmar was looking at me, a curious look in his slightly narrowed eyes.

“What?” I finally asked.

“Did you tell him?” he asked, still looking at me though clearly talking to Nelacar.

“Yes,” Nelacar said, his voice softening a little. “I did.”

“Tell him what?” asked Ania.

“We happen to know who’s behind this little operation,” said Galmar, addressing the other three now. He glanced at me. “Shall you tell them, or shall I?”

I understood his meaning then and couldn’t help sighing. I knew my friends weren’t going to take this very well.

“Do you remember Melaran?” I asked.

Hasan frowned. “Who?”

“Erikur’s servant?” said Eleanor. Then she seemed to do a double take. “Mara’s blessed bottom— _Melaran_? A Thalmor?!”

I nodded.

“And he blames me for foiling his plans the first time.” I gave a listless sort of shrug. “Which is fair, I guess.”

“Erikur,” said Hasan. “That’s the one who kidnapped you four years ago at the moot. So this Melaran was his servant? Only he’s actually a Thalmor?”

“I’ll fucking gut him,” growled Ania.

“You may get your chance,” said Galmar grimly. “He’ll not be pleased if Casien foils his plans a second time. So I want everyone to know what we’re getting ourselves into. This is going to be dangerous, and I can’t guarantee success. But we’re going to damn well try, and, Talos willing, we’ll see it done. And this is something our new friend here told me not to say,” he added, and I noticed how Nelacar pressed his lips together and shook his head, but Galmar’s eyes continued to hold mine. “Should the whole operation go tits up tomorrow, don’t you worry. I’ll come for you. I’ll come for you both. I won’t let you rot in there with those fucking bastards. So don’t you lose a wink of sleep over that, you hear?”

I nodded, a knot suddenly having arisen in my throat, making it difficult to swallow.

“Well, then,” said Nelacar dryly, “Shall we all try our hardest _not_ to let everything go ‘tits up’ so as to avoid the deaths of everyone in this room? Very good. Lord Casien, if you would review the map with me again I think it would not be amiss. Better yet, I should like you to memorize our route, even the section where I am theoretically going to be with you, just in case."

I’ve always had a good memory, so despite the frazzled nature of my thoughts, I was able to sufficiently impress Nelacar, and prove to him that I had the entire route memorized. While we did that, Galmar and the others worked on dinner. It was hardy, comforting fair, and Nelacar even opened a bottle of wine to share with us all. But while the others did their best to keep the conversation light, I found it impossible to join in. I sat with them, smiling a little from time to time, but in many ways not really a part of them, for my mind was far away. I couldn’t stop thinking of the Dominion stronghold only a few miles from where we all were now, of the no doubt dank, dark cell where even now my husband sat, or crouched, or lay feebly upon the floor, his mind half-broken. Long before the evening was done, I excused myself from the others, and left to lie down in one of the beds. The room was pitch dark, and I was alone, but I did not cry.

The air felt too thick with feeling, my thoughts too tangled up in fear, despair, and faint hope, all of them tugging at my brain from different directions, leaving me exhausted, and strangely ripe for sleep.

//

((A/N: Everyone, check out this adorable Casien, as drawn by[Topsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/profile)!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me when you all were asking about Melaran in book 2: :)))))))))


	10. Chapter 10

I awoke just as the sun was beginning to rise. Of course, this was normal for me, but what wasn’t normal, and hadn’t been for weeks, months, a year now, was waking up alone. I wish I could say I had grown used to it, but I hadn’t. There was always that moment of alarm and confusion, of missing the warmth and presence of another person. Then awareness would set in, and just the tiniest hint of shame would wash over me, for what sort of pitiful creature misses his bedmate after over a year of separation.

Nelacar slept soundly in the bed beside my own. The sole bedroom had been given over to our use while the others had slept downstairs on the couches and on bedrolls. They were meant to leave before we did, to properly position themselves, and to await the arrival of myself and the king. But, of course, now I could hear them all getting ready. Ania’s voice in particular really carried, as did Eleanor’s insistence that she try to keep it down.

I pushed the covers back and made my way downstairs, not bothering to put on socks or boots. They were literally headed out the door when I made it down into the kitchen and living room area, and they all paused to look back at me in surprise.

Which was rather silly, because they ought to have all known by now how light a sleeper I was, and how early I tended to rise.

“Go on,” said Galmar to the rest, nodding to indicate that they should wait for him outside.

Eleanor in particular looked reluctant to comply, but Ania grabbed her by the arm and hauled her outside, Hasan following them both. The door clicked shut, then, and Galmar turned to look at me.

“I meant what I said last night,” he said, his eyes holding mine. “This isn’t all on you. I’ll come for you, and for him, should it come to that.”

I nodded, and looked down at my hand, which was resting on the kitchen cabinet now. I plucked at a loose splinter of wood with two fingers. I didn’t know what to say or why I had come down here in the first place.

I heard him move closer, and looked up.

“Nelacar tried to warn you. But you should be prepared for what you might find.” He raised a brow at me, his face not unsympathetic. “Are you?”

I shrugged, and needed a moment before I could speak, for I could feel my chin starting to tremble.

“I don’t know,” I said. “How can I be?”

He nodded, understanding, I suppose. Maybe he knew it was impossible for me to be as strong as someone like him. Though I suppose _strong_ is a relative enough term.

“It’s not his first time,” he said, his own voice sounding less than steady. “Being tortured like this. I don’t know if he ever told you, but…”

“He didn’t,” I said. “But I know.”

He nodded again, accepting that explanation, though I wondered if _he_ wondered how I knew. But I simply couldn’t tell him about the Apocrypha, and the visions it had shown me, my husband’s memories—and his own, in some way. I don’t know how, but I _knew_ what Galmar had been thinking when he’d gazed down at his friend in the grips of fever, and thought back to a similar time, albeit long ago—when that same friend would wake in the night and scream from the nightmares which were all that were left of his captors’ efforts to break him.

I felt his hand come to rest on my shoulder, and looked up again.

“Have faith in yourself, and in him. He’ll see your face, and when he does—he’ll remember who he is.”

He gave my shoulder a squeeze then before finally turning and taking his leave.

I wished I had his faith. Then again, perhaps he was just as anxious as I was, and those words had been spoken for my own benefit.

I supposed I could try to find comfort in that.

Nelacar, when he woke, insisted on having breakfast. He claimed to have no interest in altering his normal routine, for to do so could bring about suspicion from his fellow Thalmor. I thought that a mysterious group of people showing up yesterday and then leaving suddenly this morning was probably more than a little suspicious, but I didn’t say anything. For my part, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach eating anything, let alone keep it down, so I stuck with my usual cup or three of coffee.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked, as I waited for him to clean up his plate and utensils.

“By all means. If you still have questions, I should encourage you to get them out now, for once we are outside, it would be wise for you to remain silent.”

I nodded; that made sense, as I would be supposedly invisible after all. I imagined nothing would raise suspicion more than Nelacar talking to a seemingly disembodied voice ambling along beside him.

“Why me?” I asked after a while.

He paused, wiping his hands on a dish cloth, and looked at me.

“Pardon?”

I frowned, frustrated, for I thought the question rather obvious.

“Why _me_?” I repeated. “Why not Galmar? Why not someone who’s known him his entire life? Why force Galmar to write to _me_ , and insist that I come all this way when we don’t even know if I’m the one who can really save him?”

He seemed to think for a moment—not about his answer, exactly, but rather, how he should phrase it to me.

“I have told you that the spell being used upon him is similar to illusion magic,” he said. “Have I not?”

I nodded.

“And how does one break an illusion spell?”

The question startled me. Next to destruction magic, illusion magic was probably my best subject—though the difference between my aptitude and natural affinity for both was embarrassingly wide. It was deceitful magic: making people see things that weren’t truly there, or, perhaps more sinisterly, feel things they shouldn’t be feeling. I resolutely refused to practice the latter, but even the former was virtually impossible to counter. You couldn’t, for example, block an illusion spell with a shield the way you could a destruction spell.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “Distract the spell-caster?”

“That would be the surest way, yes. Not an option in this case, I assure you. A powerful enough ward could also potentially disrupt the spell—power neither of us has access to. The only remaining possibility is for the victim of the spell to deny what his senses are telling him. Or, in this case, to deny even what his own mind is telling him.”

I shook my head.

“But that’s impossible. You can’t tell… _yourself_ … that what you’re experiencing isn’t true. Otherwise you’d already know it isn’t true.”

“Precisely. You would need some outside force, something, or some _one_ , you trusted even more than you trust yourself. Someone you would follow without question.”

I was struck momentarily breathless, for the implication was clear.

“And you think that person is me?” I eventually managed.

“Galmar seemed to think so. When I explained it to him, he said he only knew of one person his friend trusted with all his heart. Only one person he would listen to, no matter how much that person’s opinion might be in opposition to his own: You.”

I thought about that, even as I tried not to be overwhelmed by it. I thought of all the times my friends had jokingly asked if I knew what power I wielded, if the people of my adopted city knew who it was they truly had to thank for all the improvements that had happened over the past few years. I had brushed off their teasing, in part because it frustrated me that they would think so little of my husband—that he needed to be persuaded by me to do good for his people, when I knew this wasn’t the case. He was a good man, and a good king. But, I could admit, sometimes even good men needed a bit of prodding and convincing.

And I suppose it isn’t insignificant that he fell in love with me in the first place. He was always insisting that he admired me for everything I was. He would even, at times, ridiculously claim that I was wise, and good, and clever—the cleverest person he knew.

He was a man in love, and he liked to flatter me and make me blush, so I never put much credence behind such declarations.

But suppose he truly believed them?

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not the person he thinks I am. I’m not!”

“It hardly matters if you truly are. Only that he believes you to be.”

I would have to be satisfied with this answer, for there were no others forthcoming. And I supposed Nelacar was right: it hardly mattered whether I was as good or clever as he believed. He only had to have enough faith in me to believe that I was real, and that what _he_ saw and believed was not.

It was time to go. Nelacar bid me to place the amulet over my head. A feeling of coldness settled over me as I did, and I was surprised not to see my own body disappear. I held up my hands, looked down at my body, but nothing appeared to have changed.

“Is it working?” I asked.

He chuckled.

“Indeed it is. The illusion works not on the caster, dear boy, but on the observer. There now, try to stare into my eyes. Do I seem to stare back?”

I tried, but he seemed to be refusing to meet my gaze. Almost as if he—well.

“You can’t see me,” I said.

His eyes shifted a little when I spoke, dropping a little too low—the vicinity of my mouth, I suppose.

“I cannot,” he reassured me, smiling. “Now, come along. Stay as close to me as possible, and try not to speak, even when we appear to be alone.”

The walk from the lighthouse to the edge of town was a lengthy one. I suppose that worked to our benefit, for it had allowed Nelacar to remain fairly isolated and had kept Galmar (and now, ourselves) from being discovered. But an hour or so of hiking silently behind Nelacar was enough to inform me that the blisters on my feet had not finished healing, even despite the salve he had loaned me last night. And the silence itself was awkward. I wondered if he felt as awkward as I did, walking for so long without saying a word, knowing full well someone was following him.

The silence was necessary, for we weren’t always alone. Occasionally, other travelers would pass us, nodding or smiling at Nelacar in greeting. They mostly appeared to be farmers and hunters, traveling to and from their homes and the city to sell their goods and stock up on any needed supplies. They were mostly human—Bretons, I supposed, and perhaps a few Redguards, for they were none of them so tall as the Nords I now lived amongst, though many were just as stocky. I was surprised to see a number of Orsimer, for though Farrun had once been an Orc stronghold, the Bretons had driven them out long ago, but I supposed that didn’t necessarily change the make-up of the common people who lived and worked in the surrounding mountains and farms. We also passed many of Nelacar’s fellow Altmer—but no Dunmer or Bosmer. I began to wonder if King Alain’s consort might not feel as much a stranger in his husband’s court as I sometimes did in mine.

We had lunch at a small crossroads that seemed designed for just that. Further down the path on either side of the main road were apparently small settlements, but we had no need to venture toward either. Stone and wooden benches circled the crossroads, and several others had sat down to enjoy their lunch. Nelacar positioned himself towards the end of one bench, leaving just enough room for me to sit beside him. The space was purposefully small, so that no one else would think to sit there. I pulled my lunch from my bag as silently as possible, and felt like a ghost as I quietly nibbled and watched everyone else.

We reached the city not too much longer after that. The entrance was marked by a large gate intersecting a stone wall which presumably surrounded the whole of Farrun. We passed through without incident, though I had to move to press as closely to Nelacar as I could, for the foot traffic had increased immensely.

The city was… overwhelming. It was more spread out than Windhelm or even Whiterun, and there were large, open spaces between buildings where folk walked to and fro, chatted, or set up stands and stages to sell their wares or display their talents. There were many folk on horseback, too—and strange carts pulled by horses, not dissimilar to those I saw in Skyrim, only these were brightly painted and meant to carry townsfolk from one place to another.

Nelacar flagged one of these down, and, after having a chat with the cart’s driver, began to ascend the steps that led to the seating area. I quickly followed and settled myself quietly beside him.

We were off. The cart jolted forward as the horse began to move, and I had to grip the sides so I wouldn’t fall over. Nelacar sat beside me, seemingly relaxed, a serene smile on his face as the breeze blew threw his long hair.

“What is this?” I hissed.

His lips twitched, but he said nothing.

I’m nervous around horses in general, so sitting in a cart behind one as it merrily trotted through the city was no less nerve-wracking. Were I less anxious about our destination, too, I would have been disappointed to be passing through the city so quickly. On some subconscious level, I could acknowledge that it was a shame that I was finally traveling to some new, exotic location—and only rushing through it as quickly as possible so as to reach my awful destination.

We reached the southern end of the city in little more than half an hour, I guessed. Here, Nelacar descended the steps from the cart—as did I—and offered the driver a few coins before the fellow drove off. Then, he turned towards the southern gate and made his way back out of the city and up the stone path.

I trotted along, keeping pace beside him instead of behind him this time. We passed even more people than we had on our way into the city, so I occasionally had to dodge back behind him so as not to run into any of them. Eventually, however, he stepped off the main path and onto another, and soon the only people we met were other Altmer. They all nodded gravely at Nelacar, who nodded in return.

Thalmor. I tried to stay as close to Nelacar as possible, conscious of his warning that my strong magicka could draw suspicion.

The stronghold appeared to be anything but. It was an average building, stone-built, a small stable off to the right for those who may have traveled by horse. It was clearly military. People did not dawdle outside it, but moved with purpose to and from the main building and the several smaller stone buildings that surrounded it.

Nelacar walked with seemingly similar purpose to the main entrance, where the presumed guard standing at attention hailed him.

“Come to check in with the justiciar, Nelacar?” she asked in a pleasant enough voice.

“Merely to inform him that I intend to leave for Jehanna after all,” he replied, smiling.

“Is that so? Got tired of sitting on a hill and staring out at the ocean?”

He chuckled.

“I suppose I have.”

I watched as we passed to see if she would frown and perhaps glance in my direction, but she didn’t. Not all mages were strong enough to sense the presence of another, not matter how powerful, I recalled.

But this wasn’t the case with everyone.

“What on earth have you been _doing_ , Nelacar?” asked one man, pausing in his conversation with one of his fellows to give Nelacar a strange look. “You’re radiating raw magicka like—stars, I don’t even know.”

“I’ve been working on a rather tricky invisibility enchantment,” Nelacar replied with a sigh. Meanwhile, I pressed up as close behind him—without actually touching him—as possible. “It’s left me with rather a large headache, I’m afraid.”

The first man’s companion scoffed.

“Invisibility enchantment! What do you intend to do with _that_? A good alchemist can brew you up the necessary tincture without having to deal with some unreliable, useless enchantment. Lasts longer, too.”

“And any mage who can’t cast a simple illusion spell, at least for a few seconds, isn’t worth the socks in their boots,” said another.

Nelacar smiled his amiable smile.

“I suppose I’ll let the justiciar decide on how it should and shouldn’t be used,” he replied. “Once I’ve managed to perfect it, of course.”

They both waved him aside, clearly disregarding him as a bit of an old kook. I couldn’t help thinking that his smile looked more than a little smug, for here was the result of his supposedly ‘useless’ spell, walking quietly beside him, unbeknownst to all.

I also must have let out the breath I’d been holding a little too loudly, because he shot a stern look in my general direction. I cringed and felt myself flush, and if my heart hadn’t already been beating madly against my ribcage, it would have been now.

Several more times, Nelacar stopped to talk to some of his would-be associates. Once a woman passed us while he was doing so; I hadn’t seen her coming and nearly allowed her to brush up against me. She stopped anyway, abruptly, turning around and frowning curiously back at Nelacar and his companions.

I watched as she actually sniffed the air, a quizzical look on her face.

“Really, Nelacar,” she said. “Lavender soap?”

Nelacar turned to face her, a startled look on his face. His smile faltered for a moment, before quickly sliding back into place.

“It was a gift,” he said.

She arched a brow at him.

“Oh? If someone your age can still have admirers, I suppose that leaves hope for us all.”

Nelacar’s companions laughed, and, after a moment, so did Nelacar.

I couldn’t help cringing, even though no one could see me. I’d washed my face this morning to wake myself up, and had once again used the soap I’d brought from home.

The king loved to gently tease me about my obsession with fine soaps and bath oils.

The stronghold was deceptively large—and deep. We had been walking in a generally downward direction for some time, and even descended a short stairway twice. Gradually, the people around us dwindled, and soon we were the lone figures making our way steadily forward.

I gave a little start as we passed through— _something_ —a warm sensation sizzling briefly over me. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t pleasant, either.

Nelacar turned and smiled at me. This time, our eyes met.

“Well,” he said, “I’m afraid it’s time we—

Footsteps coming from further down the hallway made his mouth suddenly snap shut, his eyes widening. I hastily stepped back, feeling the ward pass uncomfortably over me again, and desperately hoped that it hadn’t negated the invisibility spell completely. All Nelacar could do was turn to face the person rounding the next corner as quickly but calmly as possible.

“Nelacar,” said the man, pausing. He was dressed in rather fancy robes, his long, silver hair held back by a pin. “Talking to yourself?”

“Justiciar Cyrelian,” said Nelacar, and I could hear the hasty smile in his voice. “Yes, I… I was just coming to see you.”

The justiciar arched one silver brow.

“Were you? How fortuitous. I was heading out for a bit of air, but you may join me if you wish.”

“If you do not mind the company.”

The justiciar gestured amicably enough to his side and resumed his walk; Nelacar fell in beside him. I pressed myself quickly up against the wall—luckily on the side Nelacar was on, for his arm and shoulder brushed against me, the hall was so narrow. The only indication of him doing so was a slight twitch of his hand; I supposed he was relieved that I was still here and hidden.

I waited where I was, not moving a muscle. Nelacar was supposed to give me the signal to move on once it was safe. He and the justiciar rounded the corner we had just come around ourselves. I heard them chatting, and waited…

Then Nelacar gave a small, absent little cough.

That was the signal. I hurried forward, gritting my teeth as the ward passed over me yet again. Instead of turning in the direction the justiciar had come from, I veered right, down another hallway. According to Nelacar, the Thalmor kept a very steady schedule, and there shouldn’t be any chance of my running into a guard at this hour. But that didn’t stop my heart from hammering in my throat, my skin prickling with clammy fear.

I continued forward, chanting the directions I’d memorized in my head. Right turn, middle passage, left turn, left turn, right…

And suddenly, there I was.

I had descended yet another low set of stairs, only now the hallway opened up, widening on either side. Several of the lamps ensconced along the walls had run out of oil, but apparently no one was in a hurry to refill them. The light from the remaining lamps danced menacingly off the dark, stone walls—and the barred cells on either side.

I began to walk, slowly, my heart in my throat as I peered inside each cell. They were small, almost as small as the cell I had found myself in four year ago after my abduction. So far, all were empty, save a smattering of dirty hay on the stone floor and a few empty buckets. I swallowed, fear seizing my heart as I neared the end of the hallway. For what if I should discover them all to be empty? Suppose Nelacar’s information had been wrong? Suppose Nelacar had _betrayed me_ , betrayed all of us, and my husband was—

I stopped. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, my lungs flattened inside me, my ribs squeezing them tight. I gripped the bars before me, my fingers trembling against the cold iron.

“Oh?” said an achingly familiar voice from within the cell. “What new horror is this? Am I not broken enough for you?”

He laughed, the sound low and brittle and hard.

I closed my eyes and tried not to weep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!! I assume folks are still reading, but I wouldn't mind a few comments to let me know what you think! I know things are getting a bit grim and dark, but I promise, there's definitely light at the end of the... very, very long... tunnel!


	11. Chapter 11

I fumbled for the keys in my pocket, both of which Nelacar had given me this morning. The first didn’t quite fit—though I wasn’t immediately sure if it were the wrong key or because my hands were simply shaking too much to align it properly with the locking mechanism. But the second one worked, and the cell lock slid open with a mechanical click.

Something inside me told me to be cautious as I pushed the cell door open and hesitantly made my way forward.

He was sitting with his back to the far wall, one leg bent, his arm resting over the knee, the other stretched out before him. It was difficult to see in the low lighting, but he appeared to still be wearing what he’d had on when he was captured. But the trousers were torn and dirty, and the tunic—I recognized it; it had a pretty, silver pattern that I had rather loved—but it hung on him, for he had clearly lost weight, and the tunic was pretty no longer, covered in grime as it was.

His eyes pierced mine silently through the darkness. His face was haggard and dirtied, his hair tangled and limp. His beard was overgrown, the side of his lip cracked and swollen slightly. There were bruises on his face as well.

I knelt before him, my hands still shaking as I clumsily reached for one of his. His fingers were limp, and did not clasp mine in return.

“Ulfric,” I said, and I heard the pain and fear in my own voice. I blinked, and tears slipped out to run silently down both my cheeks.

“You wear his face well,” he murmured, “You are very real. Very like him.”

He reached up with his other hand and stroked my cheek softly with the backs of his fingers. He touched my hair then, gently running his fingers through it, as though it were a sacred thing that might vanish if handled too roughly.

“It’s me,” I said desperately. “Please, Ulfric, it’s really me.”

He huffed out a sad laugh, and lowered his hand—though he still made no move to pull his other hand free from my own—and turned away from me.

“Even his voice. What do you want from me, that you would resort to this again? I have given you everything.”

“Please,” I insisted. “I’m here, I’m really here. Ulfric, it’s _me._ ”

But he only stared back at me with tired, lifeless eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, almost as though he were smiling.

“I’ve seen him die… how many times? So many ways to destroy something so beautiful.” He lifted his hand, touching my face again. “So perfect.”

I blinked, more tears slipping out. _You should be prepared for what you might find_ , Galmar had said. _Are you_?

I was not.

I reached up, resting my hand over his, my fingers curling over his own.

“None of that was real,” I said, trying so hard to keep my voice steady. “But I am. I’m here, and I’m real, and—” I stuttered, a wild thought coming to mind. “I—made you tarts for your 38th birthday, remember? You shared them with me because I forgot to make something for myself. You call me ‘little roebuck’ because I was so frightened of you when we first met; you were the king, and I didn’t know why you were there or why you should want to talk to someone like me. You love poetry, and so do I, and you gave me books and recited your favorite lines to me, and—I got sick, and you carried me back home, and stayed by my side, and everyone said you were so worried, but I got better. I got better, and I learned to be more careful, and I tried not to make you worry about me so much, but I’m… I’m not very good at staying out of trouble, and…”

I could feel my resolve crumbling, for though his fingers continued to stroke my cheek in wonder, his eyes remained dim. It was as though he were staring at something he had once loved—something that was now lost to him forever.

I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know what else to do. My eyes squeezed shut, and I ground my teeth together as a whimper tried to work its way up my throat. I lowered my head, my forehead pressing lightly against his own.

“When you make love to me,” I said, choking on the words, for it was hard to get them out. “It’s the only time I feel worthy of everything that’s happened to me.”

It was the truth—and it was my shame, laid bare for him to see. And yet it was too late, for they had broken him, and he would never follow me out of here.

I had failed.

I sniffed, and tried to get my breathing under control. After a moment, I lifted my head—and realized his eyes had finally focused on my own.

“Casien?” he said.

He touched my cheek again, only this time his expression was one of wonder—of hope.

“Yes!” I said, smiling around my sobs, almost laughing with relief. “Yes, it’s me. Oh gods, you’re—” I swallowed, wiped my nose quickly with the back of my sleeve and stood up. “We have to go. Please, we have to leave before they know I’m here.”

I was still holding his hand, and, after a moment, he stood up with me. There was something peculiar about his expression; he seemed almost perplexed now, his eyes narrowing slightly in the dim light. But there was no time to be concerned about his state of mind.

I led the way back out of the cell, pulling him behind me, my hand still gripping his own. Instead of returning back the way I’d come, I turned left and made my way further down the prison hallway, turning left again at the next intersection. At this point, all the lamps were doused, and I was forced to conjure a mage light to help light the way. I grit my teeth and continued forward.

Eventually, the hallway ended. And just as the map had shown, there was another door, buried in the darkness.

I tossed my mage light up in the air, setting it to bop slightly overhead, and dug through my pocket for the second key. Under no circumstances was I going to let go of my husband’s hand.

The key slid into the locking mechanism without issue. But at first it wouldn’t turn. I frowned, and pressed my weight against the door, wondering if maybe it weren’t aligned properly. I wiggled the key, pressed up, pressed down—finally, it clicked, and the lock turned.

I pulled the key free and reached for the door, pulling it—heaving it, really—open.

The sound it made was like dragging a thousand nails across a thousand chalkboards.

It echoed down the hallway, bouncing repeatedly off the walls. I stood there for a moment like an idiot, paralyzed by that sound, my heart thudding hard in my chest. Then I seemed to jerk back into motion again. I looked up at my confused, blinking husband and tugged him forward with me.

I pulled my mage light back down into my palm, steadying it, and holding my hand out before me to light the way. The hallway had widened slightly, but it was no longer really a hallway, really. At best, it was a cave, likely having been here in some form or another for thousands of years, but carved and chiseled out by the Thalmor—or perhaps even someone before them—until it could serve as an obvious emergency passageway. The ground beneath was no longer smooth and even; I tried to move quickly, but we had to carefully pick our way over sharp stones and sudden dips. The cave sometimes turned sharply, too, and once I nearly walked face first into hard stone before realizing the passage had turned.

We hadn’t gotten very far when I began to hear voices.

I glanced behind me, but I couldn’t see a thing through the darkness.

I tightened my grip on Ulfric’s hand and tried to move faster, pulling him along with me. He didn’t exactly try to resist, but he didn’t help either. I told myself it was on account of his physically weakened state and nothing more.

The voices grew louder, and soon I could hear footsteps.

“I see them!” someone cried.

I started running.

No time now to worry about the rocks under foot or the sudden dips and curves of the cave walls. I tripped several times, crushed the bottom of my boot painfully against sharp rocks, hit my shoulder against solid rock—but I kept running. I don’t know how Ulfric faired behind me. He let me pull him along, and if my heart weren’t beating so fast, I would probably have been crying, because I knew, deep down, that he had slipped away from me again.

I felt the sizzle of magicka hurtling towards us almost before I could consciously acknowledge it. I turned without thinking and threw up a ward.

The spell cracked against it, sparks flaring brightly before fading into the darkness.

I kept running.

Another spell, slicing through the darkness like a spear. I threw my ward up this time without even looking behind me. I didn’t even know what they were, if they intended to kill us, or kill only me, or incapacitate us both in some way. I could only hear Nelacar’s voice in my head, telling me not to hesitate to strike back at them—to strike first, even, but it was too late for that now. Again and again, they shot their spells towards me, and each time I snapped my ward against them. They sizzled and sparked like lightning, sometimes dissolved in foul-smelling fumes, or bounced off the ward and struck the side of the cave instead.

I was tiring. My ward had never held against such an onslaught before, and I could feel my ring pulsing with warmth and power. But my hand was shaking, and I still had to maintain the mage light above me.

And then we almost ran into the door.

I stopped, gaping at it for a second before fumbling around in the near darkness for a handle or lock. When I found it, it became clear that I would have to use the key again—and hope that it would open this door, too.

I pulled the key out and shoved it in.

It didn’t budge.

The footsteps behind us drew closer. I turned, heart in my throat.

“Your Thu’um,” I asked desperately. “Can’t you stop them?”

“You have taken it from me,” came the quiet reply, as if we hadn’t just been running for our lives. “As well you know.”

I felt like crumbling to the ground. Even I knew that was impossible, yet he believed it to be so. What had they _done_ to him?

I brought my hands up; I could see my fingers trembling even in the near darkness. The footsteps were growing ever nearer, and the only reason I wasn’t fending off more spells was because the cave had twisted sharply the last twenty feet or so. But they would be upon us within seconds. I didn’t know how many there were. I didn’t know how powerful they were. I didn’t know if I could look so many people in the face—and literally incinerate them.

“Close your eyes.”

I started, and looked up at my husband. He was looking straight ahead, but then his eyes shifted, ever so slightly, towards me.

I obeyed.

One second passed as the footsteps drew near. Two. Three.

A sound—a _force_ —rushing through the cave with the strength of a hurricane, battering the stone walls and rocking me backwards until my back hit the unyielding door.

There were no screams. The walls of the cave seemed to slowly stop vibrating, along with my brain and my eardrums. And then there was nothing. Silence.

“Turn around,” came the quiet command. “And do not look behind you.”

I swallowed and did as he asked. Once I faced the door, I brought the mage light back—it had extinguished during the Shout—and reached for the key again. Finally, I had the idea to put the key in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, so when I pulled it out again—my mouth tasting horribly of iron and dirt—it glistened. I took a deep breath, laid a finger on the key, closed my eyes, focused—

A fine sheen of oil now enveloped the key. I slid it back into the keyhole and turned. The lock clicked open.

I pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. After a moment, a large hand came to rest above mine. Together, we pulled, hard. The sound was similar to that of the first door, only somehow, I imagined, even worse. Yet it opened. I hazarded a hesitant glance up at the man beside me before determinedly retaking his hand and pulling him through the opening, my eyes blinking in the bright sunlight. The artificial mouth of the cave was still covered by a rich canopy of trees and no doubt well hidden if you didn’t know to look for it. Beneath that canopy, in a small space right above the mouth, was a clearing, just large enough to shelter three or four people if they kept close. It was where I was meant to meet Galmar and the others, once Ulfric and I had escaped.

There was no one there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the shortest chapter I've ever written. But we need a bit of a breather after that reunion, eh?


	12. Chapter 12

“No…!” I said, turning, even gazing up at the trees as if the others might be crouching there like Summerset monkeys. “They’re supposed to _be_ here! Where are they?”

I turned again, and caught the king staring at me with narrowed eyes, suspicion thinning his cheeks.

“Ulfric,” I said—for some reason, the look in his eyes almost made me afraid of him. “It’s still me. I promise—

That’s when I realized. _Of course_. Nelacar’s invisibility amulet!

I reached for it and hastily pulled it off. My husband’s response was immediate, he jerked back with a start, his right hand going automatically for the weapon that was most definitely—thankfully—not at his side.

“Magic,” he growled.

I don’t know what it was he thought I’d been doing in the cave—but this was obviously too much for him. I reached for him, tentatively, but he took yet another step back.

“It was just an enchantment,” I pleaded. “Please, don’t—let me take your hand, please. We can’t stay here!”

Where we were to go, I hadn’t a clue. Ulfric’s Shout had taken care of our initial pursuers—I shuddered to think what must be left of them—but I couldn’t imagine the Thalmor would let him go so easily. I also supposed it unlikely that Melaran had been among those pursuing us.

“You…” He shook his head, a look of dim confusion gradually subsuming his features.

“Please,” I said, taking another tentative step forward, again offering him my hand. “Take my hand.”

When he still refused, his eyes warily darting from my hand to my face, I decided to try something new.

“Even if—Even if I’m not who I say I am—Don’t you want to hold his hand one more time? Don’t you want to be near him? To feel him?”

My own words sickened me, but they seemed to have an effect. He blinked, and there was such stark, momentary pain in his eyes that it very nearly brought fresh tears to my own. But after a moment, he deigned to reach out, his hand tentatively taking my own.

I swallowed, and squeezed our fingers together.

“All right…” I looked around again, back to hopelessly assessing the situation we were in. “Galmar was supposed to be here, but he’s not. I don’t know what that means, but… We have to keep going. Only I’m not sure _where_.”

I was all turned around. I had no idea in which direction the city was, or the ocean, or the stronghold itself. I couldn’t for the life of me discern north from south or east from west.

Well, except I _could_. I’d learned as much from my time on board the Lady Valiant, at least as far as the sun was concerned. It was actually far easier to navigate at night, but even during the day, the position of the sun could tell a person not only what time of day it was, but in what direction one were facing, too.

I looked up at the sky, and after a few moments’ calculation, deduced which direction was east.

And east was away from Farrun. Away from Farrun, and towards Skyrim.

East it was then.

I started walking, giving my husband’s hand an absent little tug until he began to walk with me.

Dense forest immediately surrounded us as we left the clearing. I looked behind me, past the king’s shoulder, and could no longer even see the cave entrance. The chances of us getting hopelessly lost—as if we weren’t already—seemed high, but at this point I didn’t much care. Maybe getting lost in the mountains of Farrun was a good thing when one was trying to hide from the Thalmor.

I tried not to think about what could have become of Galmar and the others as we picked our way carefully through the forest. There were no sounds of fighting, nor of pursuit; only the wind rushing through the trees and birds calling back and forth to one another. It was strange how different—and yet the same—everything felt. Many of the trees were familiar, yet they grew closer together here, and were surrounded by vines and small plants and thick, mossy, underbrush. The dense foliage kept the breeze at bay, and I surprisingly didn’t find myself feeling chilled despite how far north we were.

We hiked for quite some time—I was too anxious, I think, to truly make note of the passage of time. It was nearly nightfall by the time I decided to pause and rest. It seemed to me, miraculously, that we weren’t being followed. Even so, I don’t think full panic had set in yet—we were lost, alone, and our friends and family were gods knew where. I had no food, and although I had my sword and dagger, the king had nothing. He was also, I realized, now that I could take a moment to examine him more carefully, in a far worse state than I’d initially been able to assess.

The bruises on his face were more noticeable now, and the cut on his lip was joined by several at the corner of one eye and one over the bridge of his nose. His skin was paler than I’d ever seen it—obviously the result of spending the past several weeks locked in a dark cell. To that end, I could see that his muscles had atrophied to some degree, and he had lost rather a great deal of weight. His hair was a tangled mess; I wondered, even, if we would have to cut some of it off.

But that was nothing compared to his mental state.

He gazed back at me as I examined him, impassively staring at my face as if it truly meant nothing to him. It was almost as if another person had pushed aside the man I had once known and loved and now inhabited his body—the person gazing back at me didn’t seem to know me. Even worse, he didn’t seem to care for me at all.

Yet he _had_ known me, for that brief moment in the cell when he’d said my name, and peered at me through the darkness as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You don’t believe me anymore,” I finally said. “You don’t think I’m me.”

Saying the words aloud made them true, and I slumped slightly against the large tree we were both leaning our backs against as we sat and rested.

But then I shook my head, because now none of this made sense.

“If you don’t believe I’m _me_ , then why are you following me?”

I looked up when he didn’t immediately answer.

He was looking at me, a look of faint concentration on his face, his eyes seeming to search my own. After a moment, he brought his hand up again and gently cupped my face, just as he had in the cell. His eyes held my own as his fingertips stroked my skin, trailing down over my cheek, tracing over my lips and over the tip of my chin. I blinked, and realized I’d stopped breathing. My heart skipped lightly in my chest, and I swallowed, and took a quick, sharp breath.

“I know what you are,” he said, his voice quiet—resigned. “But you wear his face. I will follow him wherever he bids me to go.” His fingers slid across my cheek again, over the tip of my ear, making my shiver, before sliding through my hair. Gentle pressure against the back of my head bid me to lean closer towards him. He surprised me by lowering his lips towards my own, and I think I forgot to breathe again as he kissed me—the first kiss I had shared with him in over a year.

“He has my heart,” he murmured against my lips, and his voice seemed to crack slightly, as though he were admitting something he shouldn’t.

“And you have mine,” I said, the anxious words slipping out of me before I could stop them.

He seemed to resent this, however, pulling back and regarding me with distaste. I could feel myself crumbling, for the wonder had faded from his eyes again, his expression once again distant and cold.

And then—a strange thing happened. A puff of… _something…_ seemed to shimmer before his face, and he blinked, shaking his head. Suddenly, his lifeless eyes widened with horror—fear subsumed his features, and his mouth fell open, but it was as though he were too frightened to even scream.

Illusion magic.

I turned to face the forest, just in time to see another spell—destruction magic—hurtling towards me. I flung my ward up on instinct, the flame sputtering and dissipating as it met the ward’s shimmering wall.

I scrambled to my feet then, my fists clenching at my sides. Sparks appeared between my palms, radiating up my arms and no doubt bathing my body in an eerie light.

“You can’t have him,” I muttered as I peered furiously through the darkening forest. “You can’t have him!!”

I noticed the rawness of my throat before I realized I’d yelled that out. Another spell flew towards me; I flicked my ward up, shattering the spell on impact—then just as quickly, brought my other hand up and shot a spear of white-hot energy in the direction the spell had come from.

It didn’t hit my target, whoever they were, but evidently sizzled past them—and engulfed an entire tree in electric sparks, shattering its trunk in half.

No doubt this gave them temporary pause.

Whatever the case, taking me by surprise appeared to no longer be an option.

Suddenly spells were being thrown at me from nearly every direction. I brought my ward up to deflect them as quickly as I could; sometimes they shattered in a spray of ice, sometimes exploded in flames, and once one sizzled and sparked like my own lightning. I knew if just one of their spells hit me I’d be dead. I was furthermore being battered mentally with the same horror spell someone had cast on the king, presumably to prevent him from Shouting. Of course, I was well trained to resist such spells, but it was taxing on top of everything else.

I was panting, heavily—not from the drain of magicka, but from sheer, physical and mental exertion. Then—I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before, but I got the idea to press my hands together, then quickly spread the ward out over my head around myself and the king. I had practiced this several times at school, and it worked—we were now surrounded by a dome of protection, similar to the barrier Brelyna had invented. Spells now bounced harmlessly off the dome’s walls while I held my hands out, both arms stretched outward, still panting as I finally managed to catch my breath.

It was a temporary reprieve though. Once it became clear that attacking me with magic wasn’t going to work, our pursuers apparently decided to switch to more conventional means.

I heard the sound of multiple swords and weapons being drawn from sheaths. Within seconds, a dozen—maybe more—Altmer men and women, presumably Thalmor, came forward and shoved their blades into my ward.

I cried out, staggering briefly to one knee. It was like being stabbed myself, only, of course, it wasn’t, just—something inside me felt twisted and raw now, and it _hurt_. Some of the Thalmor continued diligently trying to shove their swords through; some chose to stand back and blast my barrier’s walls with a steady stream of destruction magic.

My arms were shaking. I tried to regain my footing, but the pain was so intense. I wasn’t going to be able to hold it.

Fury washed over me, then—fury that these… _monsters_ thought they could steal my husband from me again when I’d only just gotten him back. They could certainly try, I thought, magicka now crackling through me as I peeled my lips back and growled from the effort of holding the ward up. But I would _die_ first before they succeeded.

And I didn’t plan on dying today.

I screamed, releasing pain and magicka alike as I crouched down and brought my hands down as well, slapping them against the earth. The barrier exploded, the force from the explosion blasting the unsuspecting Thalmor backwards.

As soon as it was over, I rose quickly to my feet, lightheaded and giddy from the sudden lack of pain. One or two of the Thalmor appeared to have been knocked out cold, but most were unsteadily getting back to their feet.

“Filthy… fornicating, little inbred!” one of them—perhaps the leader—spat as she angrily swept the hair from her face. “You won’t get away with this! Your king is _ours_!”

“Wrong,” I said, crouching slightly and quickly unsheathing both my own weapons. “He’s _mine_.”

I should have blasted her in the face right then—should have unceremoniously ended her life, as she was clearly so eager to do the same to me. But something inside me still balked at killing another person like that. I could use my sword to defend myself, could call up wards for protection, could even send a few retaliatory spells back in her direction. But I couldn’t just attack without warning like that.

She seemed to realize this, a cold smirk coming to her beautiful face.

Then, from behind her, a voice suddenly screaming as its owner charged rapidly forward. The Thalmor woman’s eyes went wide, and she looked down at the bloodied sword now coming out of her chest.

Her body crumpled to the ground as the sword’s owner kicked her aside, pulling the weapon free—revealing Ania Stone-Fist. I staggered back, relief washing over me. Ania turned to engage another enemy; to my right I saw Hasan emerge, shoving his own sword into an opponent; to my left was Galmar, swinging a pair of swords in lieu of his usual war axe. The Thalmor now turned away from me to meet this new, far more aggressive and well-trained threat, but it was too late. They’d had the greater numbers, initially, but the surprise nature of the attack—not to mention its ferocity—quickly overwhelmed them, and soon their bodies littered the forest floor.

“Make sure they’re all dead,” Galmar said to Ania, then, to Hasan, “Go get the girl and the horses.”

The girl, I hoped, was Eleanor. And horses! This was all too good to be true.

“How is he?” asked Galmar, coming towards me.

I swallowed and looked back at my husband, who was still sitting with his back against the tree. The look of horror had passed from his face, for whoever had afflicted him with the illusion spell was now dead. But he once again regarded me with suspicion and distaste—and this was only magnified when Galmar spoke, drawing his attention towards his old friend.

I sighed, trying not to give in my despair.

“It didn’t work,” I said. “He’s still... I mean, he knew me, but only for a moment. He’ll follow me, but…”

I trailed off, not really wanting to share what had just happened between us before the brief battle with the Thalmor.

Galmar gave a sharp nod.

“That’ll have to do for now. Get him onto one of the horses once Hasan returns.”

“But what happened?” I called after him as he went to join Ania in inspecting the bodies. “Why weren’t you at the cave entrance? Were you attacked?”

“I’ll explain later. For now, we need to move.”

Hasan, Eleanor, and the horses arrived quickly enough, and it was rather telling that all the tack bore the gold and black insignia of the Aldmeri Dominion. Eleanor, looking slightly pale-faced, flashed me a grim smile and waved at me from her new mount.

“I’d give you a hug, but then I’d have to climb back on top of this thing again,” she said.

I smiled weakly in return.

“Maybe save it for later?”

She gave me a thumbs up.

I saw her eying the king, a furrow coming to her brow. It was clear she could see he was still not in his right mind, but I suppose she knew better than to ask me about it.

“Well,” said Galmar, “These high elves all pretty much look the same to me, but I don’t think that ex-servant is here.”

I noticed both Eleanor and Hasan blanch a little at his rather casual bigotry while Ania only looked amused. I was rather too preoccupied with my own thoughts to care. So—Melaran was still at large, and was very likely organizing retaliatory measures at this very moment. My husband was still trapped by the pseudo-illusion spell the Thalmor had placed over him. And we none of us had a clue as to where we were going next.

 _That_ actually proved not to be true, but I wouldn’t learn as much until later.

The rest of us quickly mounted up. Ania, still trained as the best scout, led the way—though I still didn’t know exactly where that was. Galmar followed her. Behind him rode the king, who silently mounted his horse when I bid him to do so. His quiet acquiescence was difficult to watch, and when I briefly lost control of myself and rested a hand hesitantly on his knee, he looked down at it but did nothing. I turned away, embarrassed, for I knew the others had seen.

His horse’s lead was tied to Galmar’s. I rode behind him, and behind me was Eleanor. Hasan, as he did before, brought up the rear.

“All Altmer look the same,” muttered Eleanor behind me. “What a load of poppycock.”

I might have normally turned to exchange a smile with her, or perhaps laughingly urge her to keep her voice down. Instead, I kept my eyes trained forward, listlessly focused on the broad back and shoulders of the man in front of me.

It was far too early to give in to despair. But Nelacar had made it fairly clear that I was my husband’s last hope.

And I had failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, remember to get up, smell some flowers, drink some water... I'm mostly kidding ;) But, yes. Things are going to get bad, really bad, before they get better. 
> 
> But don't worry. I'll always give these sweet guys a happy ending ♡


	13. Chapter 13

The sun had finally slipped all the way behind the mountains, and the two moons shone brightly above us—and yet Galmar kept us moving. We rode silently, for the most part, horses carefully picking their way through the uneven terrain. Sometimes I heard Ania say something to her father, and occasionally Hasan and Eleanor would talk to one another, but we were a very quiet party for the most part.

I, of course, said nothing.

It was a cloudless night, so I could easily keep watch over my husband. He never spoke, either, never moved or made any sort of gesture to show that he was even aware of what was going on around him. But I don’t think his unresponsiveness had so much to do with his awareness, or lack thereof, of his surroundings—he was perfectly lucid in that regard. No. He just didn’t care.

_I will follow him wherever he bids me to go._

In many ways, the Thalmor had already won. He was so broken that even despite believing that I wasn’t truly who I claimed to be, he was still willing to do whatever I told him. This was what they had been building towards, wasn’t it? A willing puppet, a dupe—someone they could maneuver into doing whatever they wanted him to do. Only now _I_ was the puppet master.

That didn’t exactly make me feel any better.

But they didn’t have him, not any longer, and I had to reassure myself with that fact. And somehow, though I wasn’t sure how yet, we would find a way to break the spell. I would have him back. We would have each other back.

I was close to falling asleep on my horse—only jerking slightly and hastily re-righting myself as I snapped back into awareness—when Hasan called out from behind us.

“General…”

Galmar pulled his horse up and looked back, past me and towards his son-in-law.

“We need to stop,” Hasan continued. “We’re losing these two.”

By ‘these two’ I assumed he meant me and Eleanor. We were hardly used to pushing ourselves to the brink of exhaustion, and I could only imagine that she was now just as tired as I was. Galmar was silent for a moment before finally nodding.

I slid out of the saddle, numb fingers nearly losing their grip and causing me to stumble. Awareness over how much the temperature had fallen set in then; I’d been so mentally preoccupied that I hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten.

The roles between myself and my husband were now reversed. I was the one who bid him to dismount from his horse. I took his hand and led him to one of the bedrolls which had been laid out for us. We sat down on it together, and Hasan came by and offered us both a pair of blankets. I wrapped his around his broad shoulders before pulling my own around me. I could have wished for a cloak for him, since he was still in nothing but his tunic and trousers, but it couldn’t be helped.

Soon the others joined us. The horses were hobbled and grazing or napping contently around us as everyone gathered in a sort of circle together. There was quite a bit of huddling under blankets, as Galmar refused to let us build a fire, much to the muttered protests of the others. But I saw the sense in his decree. It was also discovered that Ania had been slightly burned by one of the Thalmor in the fight; a salve was produced, naturally by Hasan, and, just as unsurprisingly, it came with a copious amount of chastisement for not having said anything about the injury earlier.

“So,” I finally asked, once everyone was settled and quiet, and Galmar had passed out water skins and dried meat for us all to chew on. “What happened?”

“Patrols,” said Hasan. “A lot of them.”

Galmar grunted. “Nelacar’s information was out of date. The old fool didn’t take into account that imprisoning a man like Ulfric Stormcloak might cause his fellows to beef up their security around the area. Never more than two or three at a time, but it became clear that we were going to have to take them all out first.”

“Couldn’t have you and Uncle running into them when we didn’t know what state Uncle would be in,” said Ania.

“What did you do while they were busy slaughtering Thalmor?” I asked Eleanor, who was eying her beef jerky with suspicion before finally taking a cautious bite.

“Hid in the bushes and tried not to watch, mostly,” she said. “Oh, but then I got put on horse-sitting duty. Which was way fun, because you know how much I love horses!”

“Does she _ever_ stop complaining?” asked Ania.

I actually laughed, and hastily grabbed Eleanor’s hand before she could toss some of her jerky at Ania—I had a feeling food was going to be scarce.

“Nevertheless, it’s a good thing you brought her along,” said Hasan. “So far, she’s the only one who’s come up with an escape plan.”

I looked at my friend in surprise.

“Really?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look so shocked. That _is_ why you asked me to tag along, isn’t it? My vast stores of knowledge concerning Breton culture and High Rock topography?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. “Definitely not because I wanted an excuse to bring my best friend on a dangerous mission.”

“Don’t make me blush. So I know we want to get out of High Rock and back to Skyrim as quickly as possible. Returning by sea isn’t an option, apparently, and going south would take too long, and it’s just too… politically complicated.”

I frowned. “Is southern High Rock that much under the thumb of the Dominion?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. But they’re staunch Imperialists, that’s for certain, and they’ve got no love for a newly independent Skyrim. But then we’d have to travel further south through Hammerfell, then up through Orsinium. General Galmar made it clear that wasn’t an option.”

Galmar snorted. “If my lord’ll pardon the presumption.”

“I’m not in charge,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You can all quit teasing me about that now.”

“And I don’t suppose _he_ is yet,” said Hasan, glancing at my husband and keeping his voice low, despite the fact that we could all clearly hear him.

I frowned, and took the king’s limp hand. As usual, his fingers seemed to curl almost reflexively around my own, though not so warmly or firmly as they always previously did.

“He is,” I said. “Just not… right now. Give it time.”

Galmar eyed me and looked like he were about to say something, but then seemed to reconsider.

“Anyway,” resumed Eleanor, “So going south wasn’t an option. West doesn’t exactly make much sense either. That only left east.”

“East? Through the mountains?”

That was impossible. Even I knew that. The Druadach Mountains were virtually impenetrable; nearly all trading and cultural exchange between High Rock and Skyrim historically took place via the sea. There were no known safe passages through the peaks; travelers were almost guaranteed to die of frostbite or hyperthermia or even slipping from the steep cliffs and plummeting below to their deaths.

“I know what you’re thinking. There’s no way through, right? Wrong. I mean, technically, anyway.”

“Technically? That doesn’t exactly sound like a sure thing.”

I was already getting visions of my fingernails turning purple and my nose freezing itself off my face. I shuddered.

“Well, you never can be too sure with Dwemer ruins. These are alleged to cut a path straight through the mountains, but they’ll be thousands of years old. And Dwemer technology and architecture is incredible, but still.”

“Said she read it in some book,” said Galmar, and I could tell from the gruff sound of his voice that he didn’t fully trust the source—or her reading of it.

“Sometimes people read books, Father,” said Ania, and Hasan, mid-sip from his water flask, immediately started choking.

“It’s called Nzudelft,” said Eleanor, reaching over to absently pat Hasan on the back. “Or at least it used to be. An ancient city in the heart of the mountains. There’s a road that cuts through both the east and west side. We _should_ be able to make our way through it. It should only take about a week or so of travel. The only really hard part will be locating the west entrance.”

“So there you go,” said Ania. “Our way home is basically the sound I make when I sneeze.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“Nzudelft,” she said, pronouncing the sounds very slowly and carefully. “It’s not that hard.”

“Neez-ull-dorffin-fucker,” said Ania, crossing her eyes and making a funny face.

Hasan started choking again.

I frowned.

“Aren’t Dwemer ruins supposed to be dangerous? Suppose we get lost, or there’s a cave-in, or… And even if we do make it through, that’ll put us, where? Somewhere between the Reach and Haafginar Hold?”

“Aye, but I’m less worried about where we end up,” said Galmar. “Skyrim, I know. Dwarven ruins?” He snorted and shook his head.

“Well,” I continued slowly, looking at my friend. “I trust Eleanor. So whether you need my approval or not—you have it.”

“Did I say I didn’t approve?” asked Galmar. “Where did you think we’re headed? Besides, it’s the closest thing we’ve got to a plan, so I’ll take it.”

“Speaking of plans,” said Hasan, and I could tell from his tone of voice that he was reluctant to bring this up—and I had a fairly good guess what _this_ was, too. “It’s obvious that Nelacar’s plan didn’t quite go the way it was meant to.” He paused, his eyes when they met mine apologetic. “I think we need to talk about the jarl. Casien’s presence was supposed to bring him back to us. But… I don’t think I’m the only one who can see that that didn’t happen.”

The brief joviality which had sprung up among us seemed to slowly fade back into the surrounding darkness. Everyone went quiet. The momentary silence became deafening, save for the sound of the insects and other small animals scurrying and winging through the dark. I felt a sudden pressure, too, squeezing almost painfully around my heart and lungs. I swallowed, and tried to take a deep breath.

“Can we not talk about him as if he isn’t here?” I asked, my voice quiet.

Hasan looked stricken, and I felt immediately bad for singling him out, but I couldn’t find it in me to apologize, either. Both Ania and Eleanor were looking down at their feet. Only Galmar was watching me.

“Aye, lad,” he finally said. “We can try.”

I nodded, and absently squeezed my husband’s hand in mine, for I was still holding it. Not that he seemed to care or notice.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do,” I continued. “Maybe if we put some distance between us and the Thalmor, the spell will… I don’t know.”

“Distance between a spell and its castor _has_ been known to alter effectiveness,” said Eleanor slowly.

“What’s important is that he’s out of their hands,” said Galmar. He caught my eyes and grimaced before looking at my husband. “You’re with us now. Even if you don’t believe a fucking thing I’m saying to you.”

Ulfric, of course, only glared back at him. Even in the darkness, I could sense his quiet malevolence towards what he believed to be an enemy impersonating his oldest friend.

I sighed. “Galmar…”

“Sorry, lad. I know this is hard on you, but it’s hard on all of us.” He sighed as well. “And on that note, we should all try to get some sleep. I’ll take first watch. Ania second, Hasan third.”

“I hate middle watch,” grumbled Ania.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, General,” said Hasan, as we all moved to settle down in our bedrolls—mine was beside the king’s, though I didn’t dare try to suggest that we share our blankets. “The soldiers who traveled with you and the jarl. Were they all…?”

“Killed,” came the blunt reply. “Nelacar witnessed the whole thing from that damned contraption of his. Once they had the jarl, they executed the rest, stripped them of their arms and armor, and threw them overboard.”

I could see from both Hasan’s and Ania’s expressions that they had anticipated this news, but that that anticipation made it no less easy to bare. I had little doubt they’d known a good many of those soldiers, had likely been friends with them. Probably knew who their loved ones were, waiting back home in Windhelm. And were probably trying not to picture having to tell them what had become of their husbands and wives, sons and daughters.

I resisted the urge to lie close beside my own husband. I wasn’t sure if such close contact would potentially jog his memory as my presence had in the cell—or unnerve him further. I think, that first night, I was unwilling to admit that I was actually a little bit afraid of him. The way he looked at all the others, particularly Galmar, was… unsettling, to say the least. To him, we were all Thalmor—his torturers—impersonating the people he loved most in the world. And I knew all too well what he was like when pushed to the brink of grief and anger. He had, of his own admittance, after all, nearly gone to war when he once thought me dead.

What might he do to the enemy who wore my face?

That night I found myself gazing up at the sky for so long that I began to watch it change colors. Only when the sun began to peak over the horizon, forcing me to pull the blanket up over my head, did I finally drift off to sleep.

//

Galmar kept us moving steadily east. It was rather funny to watch him and Eleanor peering down at the map together, his hard face impassive as ever, while she frowned and crossed her arms and tapped her fingers against her elbows, or sometimes even paced, pausing only to recite passages from various tomes on Dwemer history. _Get to the point, girl!_ he once growled, but she only sniffed, and asked him to kindly not interrupt her, for now she’d have to repeat the entire thing all over again. Apparently, there was something in an old Dwemer poem about the hallowed halls of Nzudelft, and how one might access them.

We traveled mostly by night, though as Galmar only let us rest for a few hours each day, we usually departed sometime in the late afternoon and rode all through the night until the following morning. It was a hard pace for the horses, but I supposed it couldn’t be helped. There were as yet no signs of pursuit, but I didn’t imagine that the Thalmor would let us go so easily.

I convinced myself that I saw daily improvements in the king’s condition. Once, I reached for his hand, and he actually squeezed it back. Another time, I caught him gazing at me, a strange dampness in his normally dim, lifeless eyes. He even spoke to me at times, though only if I addressed him first. I liked to question him about our life together, in hopes of stirring his heart the way I clearly had in the cell. But always he would respond as if I weren’t myself, though his answers were no less heartfelt.

“I should never have left him,” he said quietly, as we both sat together near a small stream one weary afternoon. We had just washed, and he was sitting next to me, letting me trim his beard and comb through his hair. “What a fool I was.” A ghost of a smile seemed to twitch at the corners of his mouth. “A fool for loving him, a fool for leaving him.”

I lowered the comb and trimmers and gazed back at him, though he was now looking past me, as though he could see something I couldn’t.

“That’s not true,” I finally managed, and I heard the trembling in my own voice.

His features hardened again, though, and he lowered his eyes, his expression seeming to darken.

“I should never have left him,” he repeated, his voice a low rumble. He closed his eyes and didn’t speak to me again for the rest of the day.

He never kissed me again. He grew complacent, to a degree, at least when he was around me. He seemed more relaxed when we were alone, which wasn’t often—generally only to bathe or relieve ourselves, for Galmar wouldn’t leave me alone with him for long. And yet he could go so swiftly from hesitantly, gently touching my face and fingering my hair, to rudely insulting me for shadowing him so faithfully—he accused me of perversion, taunted me, and once asked me if I thought him fool enough to fall for my whiles yet again.

_Yet again_. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was referring to, but I had an inkling. And it made me feel sick to my stomach.

Around the others, he was still wary, guarded, and silent. He didn’t speak unless spoken to, and only if I were the one to address him. I woke up once with his arm around my waist, and didn’t know whether I should feel happy, grief-stricken—or terrified.

Eventually, Hasan argued for Galmar to slow our pace. The horses couldn’t continue for much longer, and we’d be sitting ducks without them. Ania, rather bravely, I thought, stood beside her brother-in-law, and I think it was the two of them together that finally convinced him to acquiesce.

It was the afternoon of, I think, the fifth day. There were as yet no signs of pursuit, but we were all still tense. I was quite tired, though perhaps not so much as Ania or Hasan, for neither of them had gotten a full night’s rest since this had all begun. I left Ulfric in the care of the others so I could go and relieve myself behind a tree before we set off once again. Once I finished, I turned, still blinking and wishing I’d been allowed at least another hour or so of sleep, a yawn still half-escaping me—and stopped cold.

Standing not ten feet away from me was another mer.

He was a Bosmer, of a similar age and height and build to myself. He was dressed in leathers and had a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder. He regarded me placidly, a sudden breeze causing messy brown hair to cover his eyes briefly.

“Hello,” he said.

My heart hammered in my chest. I ought to have reached for my weapons, or thrown up a ward, at least, but I suppose it only proved just how pitiful a warrior I truly was. I could only stand and stare, paralyzed with shock.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said, and he even smiled a little. “I figured it would be safer for everyone involved if I caught you alone, away from the others. I’ve been following you all for some time now. Believe me, I’m no friend to the Thalmor. And I know who you are.”

I swallowed, and tried to regain control of my senses.

“Who are you?” I finally asked.

His smile turned slightly sardonic.

“Prince Rininion of Farrun. But you can call me Rin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter! Don't worry, the ones after this are all a bit longer, more the usual length.
> 
> And look! A prince! He wasn't originally part of this story, but so many people were wondering about him that he sort of poked his head in without asking. Little guy definitely has a mind of his own (and he'd definitely thwap me with his bow for calling him "little").


	14. Chapter 14

“The prince of Farrun!” I said, taking a step back, blinking at the other young man in shock. “…King Alain’s husband?!”

I reached out, resting my hand against a nearby sapling, for the surrounding forest suddenly seemed to dip and spin ever so slightly. Rininion waited patiently for my senses to realign themselves, a smile quirking at his lips.

“Sorry,” he said, “I’m not wearing my tiara at the moment.”

I shook my head, my mouth opening and closing a few times before I could finally speak.

“Why are you...? What are you even _doing_ out here?”

His smile turned a bit pensive.

“Ah. Well, rather than have to explain myself twice, perhaps you’d be so kind as to lead me back to your little group. Some of your friends seem a little…”

“…stab-happy?” I suggested weakly, thinking of Ania and her father both.

He laughed.

“Yes. I should think my chances of being stabbed most _definitely_ go down if I have you at my side.”

I nodded, for he surely wasn’t wrong about that. Still… I cast him one last wary look before finally sighing a little.

“All right,” I said. “I guess since you haven’t tried to kill me yet—well, that’s something.”

“I should think so,” came the amused reply.

I started to lead the way back to the others, though I couldn’t help glancing at my new companion as I did. It felt strange, in a good way, to be around another mer, even though his sudden presence was a shock—and a rather suspicious one at that. We really were nearly the exact same height. His brown hair was lighter and thinner than mine, and pulled back partially from his face—and it was a rather handsome face, young and clean-shaven, with bright blue eyes and dimples that appeared when he smiled.

I started, realizing something.

“Wait a second,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Were you watching me pee?”

He beamed cheekily back at me.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I didn’t stare too much. I’m a married man.” He even brought his right hand up, wiggling his fingers, the silver band around one finger winking in the afternoon sunlight.

I blinked, not entirely sure if he was serious—but the others were only a few feet away now.

I suppose it’s testament to how tired we really all were, for none of them seemed to notice that I wasn’t alone until Rininion and I were practically on top of them.

“Shit!” cried Hasan, suddenly stepping back and pulling his sword free in alarm.

That set the other two off. Both Galmar and Ania whirled around to look at us; both also immediately unsheathed their own weapons. I noticed Galmar also absently push a wide-eyed Eleanor behind him. My husband’s eyes, meanwhile, flicked towards me, then towards the prince, but as usual, he gave no indication of seeming to care about anything.

“It’s all right,” I said, holding up my hands. “This is Prince Rininion of Farrun.”

“Prince _what_?” asked Ania.

“Too many syllables for you?” muttered Eleanor, rolling her eyes. Ania took her eyes off the prince long enough to make a face at her.

“Step away from him, boy,” said Galmar calmly, his own eyes never leaving my new companion.

“Which one of us is he talking to?” said Rininion, his voice lowering to a somewhat melodramatic whisper.

I sighed. Heavily.

“He’s not with the Thalmor,” I said, reassuring the others. “He’s here to help us.”

“Maybe,” said Galmar, “But I’ll feel a lot better if you’d just step aside.” He paused, then added: “I’m two seconds away from telling Ania to grab you and have Hasan deal with your new ‘friend’ here. Might as well do as I ask. Be a lot less messy that way.”

“It’s okay,” said the prince, his smile turned reassuring now. “Do as he says. I’ll be fine.”

I hesitated before reluctantly moving away from his side and going to stand beside Ania.

“All right then,” said Galmar, lowering his sword a little. “So you’re not interested in a hostage. Who are you, and what do you want?”

“I told you who he is,” I said, scowling.

“My name is Rin,” said the prince, his lips twitching at my outburst. He glanced at Ania. “Most people find that easier to pronounce than my full name. My husband, Alain Delacourt, is indeed the king of Farrun, which makes me the prince.”

“Pardon me, Your Highness,” said Hasan, his own sword still held at the ready, “But you don’t look much like a prince.”

“And he doesn’t look much like a High King,” said Rin, nodding at my husband, who only stared quietly back at him. This little quip naturally earned him renewed suspicion from the others. I wondered that he seemed so unconcerned about antagonizing people he allegedly wanted to help, but then I supposed it must simply be part of his personality.

“As to why I’m here—luck, partially. I was out hunting six days ago, and I happened to come upon the bodies of a few Thalmor. I thought that was rather interesting, so I tracked those who had slain them.” He looked at me again. “I saw you fight the Thalmor. You’re very impressive.”

“…Thanks,” I said, though I wasn’t really sure what the appropriate response to that ought to have been.

“Since then, I’ve been following your party. I can’t quite keep up with the pace you’ve been setting, but you’re very easy to follow, you know. I’d advise losing the horses as soon as possible.”

“How do we know you’re really who you say you are,” said Ania. “How do we know you’re not a Thalmor? That you’ve—that you’re doing the same thing to us that they did to Uncle.”

I started. I’m ashamed to admit that that honestly hadn’t occurred to me. I looked at the prince; his eyes had narrowed slightly, though more in confusion than anything. His eyes darted towards the king, then, and I suspected he was wondering just what exactly _had_ been done to him. Which meant he didn’t know.

“He’s not a Thalmor,” I said. “He’s not a mage, for one thing. Unless he’s a very weak one.”

“Could he be wearing some sort of enchantment, like the one Nelacar made?” asked Hasan.

“If it were strong enough, Casien would be able to sense that, too,” said Eleanor. She looked up at Galmar. “I think he must really be who he says he is.”

“And what’s a prince doing hunting in the woods alone?” asked Galmar, apparently not swayed by our argument.

“Oh, I always hunt alone. It was something I insisted upon before I would agree to be married. I had no interest in being another man’s prized possession, a pretty statue to be put on display at court. If he wanted me, then he would have to grant me my freedom—the freedom to leave whenever I wish, for as long as I wished. And in return, I promised to always return home.”

There was something about this that rang true with me, though I couldn’t quite say what. I suppose I could well believe that a young Bosmer might tell a human king that he would never belong to anyone but himself. But that if that king truly wanted his heart—he could have it, and always would.

It all sounded very painfully familiar.

“Your husband must love you a great deal,” I said quietly.

I think there must have been some vein of sadness in my voice, for they all looked at me then. Five people suddenly looking at you with anxious, pitying faces, which they then try hastily to alter, is… well, it’s something.

“I think he does,” said the prince, smiling a little. “At least as much as you seem to love yours.”

I nodded and swallowed, but could think of no immediate response. After a moment, I went to go and stand beside the king, whose hand I took. As usual, he made no move to resist my overtures, but neither did he seem interested in returning them himself.

“All right,” said Galmar, finally sheathing his sword, though his expression remained hard. Hasan and Ania took their cue from him and did the same, though they, too, seemed to remain on guard. “Let’s say I believe you. Now—tell me why you’re here and what you want.”

“Fair enough. I began tracking you mostly out of curiosity. It took time for me to figure out who you all were, but once I did, I knew that I had to help you.”

“But why?” I asked. “Farrun and Skyrim aren’t officially allies.”

“And you said you found it difficult to keep pace with us,” said Hasan. “Yet you somehow managed to learn more about us.”

“Well, I certainly can’t move as fast as a horse,” said the prince, “But I know my way better through these woods than any of you do. I usually caught up with you while you slept. I stayed until you awoke, observed you for some time, then went to sleep myself. As I said, catching up with you later wasn’t difficult, though I wasn’t always so timely. It helps that your pace has been slackening the last day or so.”

“And the ‘why’?” insisted Ania.

“Many people in Farrun hate the Thalmor, hate their presence here, and I’m no exception. Allie feels the same way I do, but he can’t say it publically. The Dominion isn’t exactly our ally, but no one wants to go to war with them again, and Farrun isn’t even happy about being part of the Empire, let alone being forced to supply it with arms, troops, and coin for another war against the Dominion.

“So when I saw that someone was slaughtering Thalmor as if they were hunters culling a herd of longhorn deer, I couldn’t resist following them. When I learned who you were, I was doubly curious and anxious to help. The death of High King Ulfric somewhere within the wilds of Farrun, possibly at the hands of the Thalmor, would be a political disaster. Yet even beyond that…”

He paused, and for the first time looked slightly hesitant. I was surprised when he looked at me, then, his expression softening and turning somewhat sheepish.

“I had heard of you—the Dunmer who married the High King of Skyrim. People talked about it here after it happened, as if it were some awful scandal. It was almost enough to make me tell Allie ‘no’ when he asked me to marry him. Honestly, forget marriage—I didn’t want to be at court at all. Do you know how many elves there are in the king of Farrun’s court? None. Now there’s one. And all the human nobles smile at me and secretly hate me, and so do their elven lovers, only not so secretly.”

“Talos fuck me in the ass,” muttered Galmar, sighing heavily and glancing at me. “It’s another _you_.”

I couldn’t help the little smile I felt twitching at my lips.

“People in Windhelm actually haven’t given me all that much trouble,” I admitted, shrugging. “It was harder going from being a servant to what I am now. But…to be honest, it never would have occurred to me to tell him ‘no’ when he asked me.”

I was startled, then, when the hand in mine pulled itself gently free, only to rest on the back of my neck. The familiar warm, heavy weight made the breath momentarily catch in my throat. I turned to look up at him, but he was still gazing at nothing, his expression listless and dim as always.

There was a strangled sort of silence among the others, and it was apparent they’d noticed the gesture, too.

Finally, Galmar cleared his throat.

“Well, then, Your Highness,” he said, and there was more than a hint of sarcasm in his use of the title, “So your grand advice is for us to lose the horses, is that it?”

“Yes. Horses are exceedingly easy to track—and you _are_ being tracked. The Thalmor sent out a search party not long after you fled. They’re at most a day, maybe two days behind you. They’re in no hurry. They’re simply waiting for your pace to slacken. They will catch you eventually.

“Let them,” said Ania, shrugging. “We’ll do the same thing to them we did to their friends.”

A smile twitched at the corners of the prince’s mouth.

“I’d heard martial prowess was a source of pride among Nords. I don’t doubt you’re very good in battle, but against 20 or 30 Thalmor?”

“20 or 30!” cried Hasan. “Are there so many?”

Rin nodded.

“So far as I can tell. There may be more, and who knows if they’ve managed to contact any of their fellows elsewhere.” He glanced at me. “It seems you’ve foiled a rather grand plan of theirs.”

“And why not take us back to this king of yours?” asked Galmar, clearly still not willing to believe everything the prince was telling him. “If he hates the Thalmor so much, would he not offer us aid?”

Here Rin looked uncertain.

“To be honest, I don’t know that he would,” he admitted, and I could see that it pained him to admit as much. “He could potentially be accused of aiding and abetting an enemy of both the Dominion and the Empire.”

“Are we enemies?” I asked, blinking. “Because of a civil war fought in our own country?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. I’m not a politician; I’m only married to one. But I can’t offer you any sort of reassurance that returning to Farrun would be even a remotely good idea. And call me a romantic, but I’m not going to be responsible for the death or imprisonment of the only other elf crazy enough to marry a human king. I can’t have that sort of guilt weighing on my conscience.”

If the situation weren’t so serious, I wouldn’t have been able to help laughing at his rather droll way of speaking. As it is, I simply pressed my lips together and tried to hide my smile. I suppose, in the end, the only one who really had any right to call someone like me ‘crazy’ was someone who’d pretty much done exactly what I had done.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Ania, her face stubborn. “Losing the horses. And even if you are the prince of Farrun—that doesn’t mean you aren’t lying about wanting to help us.”

“Farrun and Jehanna are both known for their historical desire for independence,” said Eleanor cautiously. “It’s… not _too_ surprising that Farrun’s king wouldn’t be fond of the Dominion _or_ the Empire.”

“Isn’t that the whole reason you two came here in the first place?” I asked, glancing first at my husband, then at Galmar. I felt the king’s hand on my neck curl slightly, tightening around me in a not particularly comfortable way before relaxing again. But Galmar only glared at me.

“Aye,” he finally deigned to respond. “It was.”

“You’ll be harder to track without horses,” the prince repeated, “And I know these woods better than most. I can avoid soft ground and heavier brush. I know the best places to hunt and fish, as well.” He gave Galmar, Ania, and Hasan all a peculiar look. “You carry bows, yet none of you reached for one when you saw me. In fact, you’ve left them strapped to your saddles.”

“We need him,” I finally said, turning to speak to Galmar directly. Frankly, I was tired of debating the matter. “He’s a hunter, and we could use that. He knows his way through the woods. He can help us get to Nzudelft.”

“Nzudelft?” said the prince, frowning.

“A dwarven ruin,” said Eleanor, ignoring the hard look Galmar was giving her. “It’s where we’re trying to go.”

Rin shook his head.

“I don’t know anything about a dwarven ruin. But I can help you get there safely, and do my very best to throw off your pursuers.” He paused, his eyes meeting Galmar’s. “If you still don’t trust me, then send me away. But you _must_ get rid of the horses.”

“Galmar,” I said.

His eyes met mine. I didn’t want to force the issue, but I knew that the prince was right. We couldn’t fight so many Thalmor on our own and be assured of winning. We were already exhausted. We needed an ally.

Finally, he nodded.

“Take as much as you can,” he said, Hasan and Ania hurrying to do as ordered, no questions asked. He turned to me and Eleanor. “You two will have to carry your own supplies. Can you do that?”

We looked at each other before nodding. We didn’t exactly have much choice.

Galmar jerked his chin towards the king then.

“And him?”

I turned to look up at him. He actually met my eyes, and even arched a brow at me, almost as though he were challenging me. It was easy sometimes to forget that he clearly was listening to everything we said.

“He’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll stay with him.”

And so our party of six became seven. The horses were stripped of their tack and left to graze near a rocky stream; I confess to having given mine one last pat on the cheek and a tickle behind the ear before leaving him to his fellows. The saddlebags were converted to backpacks, and I tried not to reveal how heavy mine was the first time I hefted it onto my shoulders. I could tell from Eleanor’s expression that she felt similarly.

The blisters on my feet returned almost immediately, but I was reluctant to use up all of Hasan’s salve. Fortunately, Rin was able to create a poultice using a local plant that helped ease the pain. He traveled more lightly than any of us; he carried no bedroll, for he slept on the ground at night, curled up like some small animal, one hand wrapped loosely around his bow. He would often scout ahead, alerting us to some danger, such as a family of mountain cats, and directing us to alter our course.

He taught us how to maneuver our way through the forest yet leave the least amount of impact as we went. I learned to avoid brushing against branches and bushes, where bits of hair or clothing could get caught and left behind. It was preferable to tread on stone and root than on soft dirt or mud. And he advised that we spread out as we walked (though I kept my husband close beside me) rather than walk single file, as this would make it harder to follow us and pinpoint in which direction we were headed. This went against the military training of the soldiers among us, but as there was little threat of ambush, and we were a very small party, they reluctantly acquiesced.

Ulfric continued to remain passive and seemingly indifferent to both his surroundings and what we were doing. His baleful glares towards the others did not slacken, yet towards me… I noticed his expression softening at times, and occasionally we would have genuine conversations together.

“Do you remember our first anniversary?” I once prompted.

My goal was always to try and see if I could slip past whatever it was that still had hold of him, just as I had in his cell. Mostly I would do so by recounting memories that we had shared together—the happier, the better.

A faint smile came to his face, though his eyes still didn’t meet my own.

“How could I forget,” he murmured.

I tried not to feel encouraged by that smile.

“Did I ever tell you that it was all Hellina’s idea?” I continued, keeping his hand held lightly in my own as I stepped carefully on the bed of pine needles, dong my best to avoid bare dirt. “She’s the one who gave me those… well, you know. And it was her idea that I should show them to you during our meeting.” I cast him a teasing look. “You certainly seemed to like what you saw.”

He was silent for a moment, then:

“If there is any kindness in your heart at all,” he said, “You will cease this line of conversation at once.”

The sudden coldness in his voice was like an icy fist wrapping itself around my heart. I confess it was very hard to retain hold of his hand, but I did.

Yet other times, he truly did seem to forget that I wasn’t who he thought I was—a Thalmor agent posing as his beloved.

“You are too hard on yourself,” he said absently, after I had lamented my refusal a few years back to respond to a letter my aunt had sent me. I was too startled—and too afraid—to press him on it, so I simply gazed at him for a moment before lapsing back into silence.

His hand in mine became firmer as the days passed, and he more than once repeated the gesture of resting his palm at the back of my neck or on my shoulder. I began to lower my guard around him, and though I tried my very best to stifle the hope blooming in my heart, it was hardest to do so at night, when I would lie down beside him, and eventually allow myself to press close against him, wrapping my arm around him and hugging him to me for warmth.

In retrospect, I should have been more cautious. Yet I don’t blame myself, either. I had missed him for so long, and to finally have him back, yet not truly _have_ him, was painful and difficult to accept.

We switched to traveling mostly during the day and sleeping at night. My body quickly adjusted, and I already felt more awake and aware, even though my muscles ached constantly and my body was in general simply weary from traveling. On the evening of the third night since the prince had found us, he led us to a small network of caves, though he made us wait first while he made sure they weren’t otherwise occupied, with mountain cats and bears being the most likely culprits, though trolls were a possibility, too, even this far west. But, surprisingly, it was empty, and we would have shelter for the night for the first time in many nights. We would surely all sleep easier for it.

Rin took Hasan hunting with him, so the rest of us set up camp. We built a large cooking fire near the mouth of the cave, but there were smaller ‘rooms’ throughout the structure, and in each of these, so long as there was some sort of outside ventilation available—the cave appeared to have been partially created by some long-dead uprooted tree—we built smaller fires. It was surprisingly cozy, and after dinner was prepared, I convinced Galmar to allow the king and I to occupy one of the smaller rooms together.

I suppose there was a part of me that thought if we could have some privacy, I would have a greater chance of getting through to him. After all, the only times he seemed to let his guard down and spoke to me as if I really were who I purported to be was when we were alone.

We sat together, side-by-side, our backs to the dirt-and-stone wall. I longed to lean against him but refrained from doing so—instead, I sat up, self-consciously straight, carefully nibbling at a still hot haunch of roasted pheasant. His own appetite had diminished noticeably, but I always made sure that he ate, however little.

“Do you remember the morning I left for Winterhold?” I asked after a while, once we had both finished eating and really had nothing left to do except gaze into the embers of the lowly burning fire. The soft voices of the others occasionally filtered through, but I imagined some had already fallen asleep.

“You will have to specify,” came the quiet response.

I smiled, despite myself, for it was true: I _had_ left him, twice now, to further my studies as a mage, though, in fairness, the first time he had all but sent me there himself.

“The last time,” I said. “Over a year ago now. It was still so cold, and the roads had iced over again. All the little blossoms in the trees had frozen, too. It made me so sad… but I guess I was already sad to begin with.”

He was silent for a long time, to the point where I wondered if he would answer me at all.

But, eventually, he did.

“Watching you ride away from me was one of the hardest things I have ever done,” he finally said.

I don’t know why, but hearing him say that—I felt as though he would never have normally admitted as much to me—which meant he didn’t believe I was _me_ after all, for all he’d addressed me as if he had. I blinked the tears away and shook my head slightly.

“You told me not to cry,” I said, which naturally caused me to have to reach up and sweep aside the tears that had gathered once again at the corner of one eye. “I tried not to. But I just—I had promised myself I’d never leave you again. But then I thought that it was a childish thing to cling to, and that I couldn’t go on living my life as if it weren’t my own. I _needed_ to return to the college, even if just for a year. But now…” I shook my head again. “I shouldn’t have gone. I should have stayed with you.”

I was startled from trying to regain control of my emotions by the feel of his hand on my cheek. I looked up at him; the backs of his fingers stroked gently down my skin, over the scraggly bits of new growth on my chin, for I hadn’t really had a chance to shave in some time.

“That is just what he would say,” he murmured, his mouth twisting slightly at the corner. “Well done.”

I blinked, another tear slipping out, my eyes still holding his. It hurt—more than anything else in the world—to gaze at the man I loved and know he didn’t know me for who I was. To know that he believed himself to be looking at an imposter—but even worse, to know that he believed me forever lost to him.

I was startled anew when he began to lower his face towards my own.

“But—if I’m not me, how can you—?”

He silenced the question with a kiss that was far too sweet, and far too gentle.

“Does it matter?” he murmured.

It should have. But I missed him _so much_ —I couldn’t deny him, couldn’t find it in myself to push him away. Why should I? He was my husband, and I had been longing for his touch again for over a year now. It was right that he should kiss me; it was right that he should pull me close, and gently lower us both to the bedroll.

I suppose it was strange for me to be so nervous about what was happening. I had, after all, likely hoped that it _would_ happen, else why plead to Galmar to let us spend the night relatively alone together? Yet there was something not quite right about the way he touched me that night. Oh, he was gentle; he never hurt me in any way, nor made me feel as if I should be afraid of him. But I had lain my heart bare to him in his cell, when I told him the truth about myself—that I didn’t feel worthy of any of the wonderful things that had somehow happened to me these last few years of my life—except when he made love to me.

But that night—for all his lips against my skin made me gasp, and his hands sliding over my body made me stifle my moans—I felt nothing.

And afterward, when I lay beside him in the darkness, my heart still beating raggedly in my chest, I felt a coldness seep over me, a feeling of fear—and shame.

_This was wrong_ , I thought, even though I couldn’t put my finger on why. 

Again—I don’t blame myself.

I couldn’t have known what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casien refers to three separate memories in this chapter; all of them reference one-shots I wrote and posted to the one-shot collection here on AO3
> 
> Their first wedding anniversary: "Casien 4"  
> Leaving for Winterhold: "Casien 6"  
> Casien receives a letter from his aunt: "Casien 14"


	15. Chapter 15

I slept deeply that night, despite my misgivings. I’m not sure if I dreamed.

Then suddenly I was awake again.

And I couldn’t breathe.

My eyes flew open, my hands going immediately to my throat. Large hands blocked my own, wrapped around my neck, squeezing, unmovable. I frantically beat and clawed at them before slapping the earth beside me uselessly, my legs kicking out as well. I reached for my attacker’s face—my movements were sluggish now; I couldn’t think. My fingers moved along a bearded jaw and chin, clutching uselessly, weakly at a familiar pair of lips.  

I think fear paralyzed me more than anything then. Even as my heart was racing yet weakening, my consciousness fading.

I somehow had the wherewithal to cast a mage light, though it flickered and pulsed with the rapid beating of my heart.

And there, gazing down at me, were the pale, dim eyes of my husband.

I like to think that the light was his undoing. That he saw my face, and his grip slackened just a little—but it was enough. Because I didn’t die that night, though by all accounts I should have. He was easily twice my weight. And he thought he was killing his own torturer—a man who wore his husband’s face.

I shot out spikes of ice over his shoulder, again and again and again. It was all I could do; it was the only noise I could make. But it was enough.

It was Hasan who must have been on watch. He entered the small cave, sword in one hand and makeshift torch in the other. When he saw what was happening, he must have tossed both aside before flinging himself at the king.

“GENERAL!” he cried, even as he fought to rip his king’s hands from my throat. “ANIA!!”

The others were awake in a flash. The little alcove was soon crowded, and between the three of them, they managed to wrench him off of me. I rolled away, crawling, grasping and wheezing for breath.

“Go!” shouted Galmar.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I crawled out of the alcove until I could pause and lean against a wall, where I once again tried to catch my breath. My throat was on fire. I’d never been in such pain; it felt like raw needles sliding up and down inside me with each, wheezing breath.

Eleanor and Rin were quickly beside me. I was still naked, so one of them must have gotten a blanket and wrapped it around me. I only sat there, my knees curled up to my chest, Eleanor’s arms wrapped tightly around me, her head buried into my shoulder. The prince sat across from us, his expression solemn in the low light of the now dying fire.

I don’t know how much time had passed before Galmar finally emerged from the smaller cave—probably no more than a few minutes. He picked up the torch Hasan had dropped and crouched down beside me, narrowing his eyes at my neck, but he couldn’t get the torch close enough to see without burning one or both of us. Finally, he sighed and handed it to Rin.

“A little light wouldn’t hurt,” he said, lifting his brow at me. “And don’t talk. You’ll only aggravate it.”

I nodded and conjured a mage light with one still slightly-shaking hand. He touched my chin gently with one hand, tilting my head up and frowning. I imagine the skin all around my neck was already beginning to bruise horribly.

Finally, he sighed again and lowered his hand.

“Don’t suppose he knows any healing magic,” he said, clearly aiming the question at Eleanor.

“It’s not exactly his best subject,” said Eleanor, and I almost smiled, for it was a really polite way of saying I had exactly zero talent in restoration magic.

He frowned, then turned to the prince.

“Know of anything that would bring the swelling down?”

Rin nodded.

“I was just about to suggest it. It shouldn’t take me too long to find what I need.”

“I suppose you’ll be all right on your own,” Galmar said, his voice a bit gruff.

Rin smiled.

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” He glanced at Eleanor. “In the meantime, feel free to dig through my pack and find him something to wear. We should be about the same size.”

A half an hour or so later, I was sitting before the rebuilt fire, dressed in some of the prince’s clothing, though I still kept the blanket around my shoulders. The trousers were a little tight around my middle, and my shoulders were a bit broader than the shirt’s owner’s, but that slight discomfort was nothing compared to the now swollen, painful feeling in my throat. Eleanor still sat close beside me, and Galmar sat opposite us. None of us spoke. Ania and Hasan were supposedly still in the alcove keeping an eye on the king. I didn’t ask how he was, if they’d hurt him, if they’d attempted to restrain him in some way.

Rin offered us all a small smile as he ducked back into the mouth of the cave, laying his bow aside and squatting down before me. He was carrying with him one of the small wooden cups we had taken from Nelacar’s house; he must have grabbed it on his way out. He dipped a finger inside the cup then began to gently ‘paint’ the bruised skin around my neck with some sort of paste. It had a strange, sharp, unpleasant smell, yet it was cool against my skin.

“What is that?” asked Eleanor, craning her head to try and watch.

“Crushed leaves of the marrowberry bush mixed with canis root sap and a few other things I don’t think you would recognize, since I’m afraid I don’t know the proper names for them. Only what my mother and grandmother used to call them. It should be absorbed through the skin and act as an anti-inflammatory as well as a pain reliever.”

“Did they raise you?” asked Eleanor. “You mother and grandmother.”

He smiled, shifting to carefully apply the remainder of the paste before sitting back and wiping his finger against the knee of his pants.

“Yes, they did. My family have lived in these woods for generations.”

“So if you’ve lived out here all your life … How did you and King Alain meet?”

“Can you feel the difference?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine.

“Don’t nod or shake your head,” said Galmar, who’d been silently watching from the other side of the fire. “Raise your left hand for yes, right hand for no.”

I looked from Galmar and back to the prince before tentatively lifting my left hand.

He smiled.

“Good.” He settled with his back against the cave. “Allie and I met after he was separated from his hunting party. I found him unconscious with his horse grazing nearby.”

I could see from Galmar’s expression that he didn’t think much of a king who’d allowed his own horse to unseat him during a hunt. Every jarl, at least in youth, was expected to be an expert warrior and hunter.

“And you took care of him?” asked Eleanor, and I could tell she was trying very hard not to look as if she genuinely found that to be rather romantic.

“Oh no. Not at first. I tied him up and trained my bow on him as soon as he came to. My family greatly value their privacy, you see, and we never liked to find outsiders so near our settlement.

Eleanor gaped. “You seriously threatened to kill a _king_?”

Rin smiled.

“Oh, I didn’t know he was a king at the time, though I can’t say that would have made much difference to me. I didn’t want to actually kill him, but I couldn’t let him go, either. Yet I knew that if I took him back to the settlement, it was very likely that he would be executed. So, I compromised. I brought him to a cave very much like this one.”

“So you took the king of Farrun hostage,” said Eleanor slowly, “Only you didn’t actually know he was the king. And you held him—for _how_ long?”

“Several days. Eventually, he convinced me to let him go. Search parties had been combing the woods since the night he’d been declared missing. He could see that I had no intentions of killing him at that point, and if I truly valued my family’s privacy, I would let him go before the entire settlement was discovered.”  
  
“And did you? Let him go, I mean.”

“Of course. But then I couldn’t help following him.”

Galmar snorted, so softly I almost thought I’d imagined it.

“You followed him back to the city,” said Eleanor. “Back to the castle. That’s when you learned who he was— _what_ he was.”

“Yes. I admit I was rather disproportionately upset at him for deceiving me. But I think I was even more upset that he seemed to be waiting for me, once I finally found the courage to sneak onto palace grounds and climb through his bedroom window to confront him about it. In any case, after I finished yelling at him, I asked him if he was going to have me arrested. He said that he was not.”

“And the rest is history,” said Eleanor. I suppose we could all guess what had happened next.

“And the rest is history,” Rin repeated, smiling.

“Well,” said Galmar, “think it’s time we all tried to get back to sleep. You,” he said to me, “be careful when you lie down. Stay on your back and try not to turn your head.”

I was already sitting on what had been Ania’s bedroll, so Eleanor helped me to lie back without turning my head too much. I gazed up at the dark ceiling then while listening to the others settling down around me. I don’t know if anyone was keeping watch, if Galmar intended to do it himself, or if Hasan or Ania would be returning from the little alcove. Surely, at least one of them would have to remain awake to keep an eye on my husband.

I blinked, but my eyes were dry. Yet it was hard to shake the image from my mind of the king gazing down at me, his face, eerily lit by the light of my bobbing mage light, devoid of any and all emotion. His grip on my neck had been iron strong. Had Hasan not shown up, he would have certainly killed me.

Maybe there was some small part of me that wished he had succeeded.

I had suffered through quite a few lonely nights that past year. But I think that one must have been the loneliest, for all my closest friends and family lay near me. I couldn’t see how we were to move on from this—and neither could anyone else, I think, for any mention of what had just happened to me had remained conspicuously absent from our conversation. We had likely all reached the same conclusion: My presence alone was no longer enough to break the spell. Though they no longer had control of him, the Thalmor had successful broken him, and at present there was no way to bring him back. We had his body, but his mind was lost to us.

He was lost to me.

I was no longer wheezing with each painful breath, but my throat still felt terribly raw. Some of the pain had subsided, and I couldn’t help imagining the ugly bruises which had no doubt already begun to appear under the paste the prince had applied. Yet despite the lingering pain, and despite my equally painful thoughts, I did manage to drift off to sleep. Dawn was piercing the mouth of the cave when I finally opened my eyes again. I had turned my head, too, to gaze out at it without realizing it, and there was no pain associated with the movement.

After a moment, I sat up, pushing the blanket aside and getting to my feet as quietly as possible so as not to disturb those sleeping near me. I crept towards the mouth of the cave and was little surprised to find Rin already awake, sitting there and using a dagger to carve something out of a piece of deadwood. He looked up at me and offered me a small smile.

“Don’t go too far,” he said.

I nodded and began to pick my way through the trees. My stomach was still in knots over everything that had happened, and at how hopeless our situation seemed to be; I half-feared I’d have to throw up. Instead, I found a bush to crouch behind and mourned the fact that I hadn’t had access to a proper toilet in days.

I felt only marginally better afterward, and instead of heading back to the cave to wait for the others to awaken, I turned and let myself wander off deeper into the woods. Rin’s warning not to stray too far was fair, but I think, more than anything—I needed to be alone. Besides, I wasn’t half as defenseless as people often thought I was; I’d proved as much in the fight against the Thalmor. And frankly… I just couldn’t seem to really care.

I followed a cooler than usual breeze to the edge of a cliff, the trees falling back behind me a few feet as I gazed down at the fog-covered forest far below. It was probably foolish to stand so brazenly out in the open, but at least I was facing east. A raptor of some sort called from far above, and I gazed up at the sky, watching as it slowly circled the area.

After a moment, I sat down, leaning my back against a nearby rock outcropping. I closed my eyes and let the westward wind blow the hair back from my face. The clouds shifted, and soon I felt the warmth of the sun’s rays falling against my skin.

I sat like that for a long time, motionless, for the most part. My mind was too restless for me to fall back asleep, though I confess I was barely really aware of my surroundings. I could have suffered an ambush quite easily. I knew this. I just couldn’t find it in myself to care.

Eventually, I heard footsteps. I opened my eyes, expecting perhaps Hasan, for the footsteps were too light to be Eleanor’s. I was surprised when a shadow fell over me, and I finally looked up and saw Galmar.

He smiled a grim smile before seating himself beside me.

“How’s the neck?” he asked after a while.

“Better,” I said.

It hurt to speak. I gazed out at the vista below us, wondering vaguely just how much farther we would have to travel before reaching the distant mountains. If we would even make it that far before something truly awful happened.

“We need to think about…” Galmar’s rough voice sounded rougher than usual. He paused, seeming to need to collect himself before continuing. “About what we’ll do.”

“What we’ll do,” I repeated listlessly.

“If he doesn’t get better. It’s clearly something we have to consider at this point. I’m not saying it won’t happen, but—and I don’t like to put this all on you. It isn’t. But you’re his husband, and—we have to decide what we’re going to do. How we should handle it.”

 _I can’t talk about this right now_. That was what I wanted to say. I swallowed.

“If that happens,” I said. “Then Ania will queen.” I blinked, and opened my mouth, then closed it again. “And I… will take care of my husband.”

 My face was already crumbling, even before the words had left my mouth. I think, in many ways, it had been a long time coming. That it would happen here, with Galmar of all people, and after what had happened to me—I suppose it made sense.

I felt his arm come to rest around my shoulders as I began to sob. The pain in my throat became nearly unbearable, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I couldn’t stop thinking of the day of our wedding, how his eyes had shone when they met mine, how the sun had played with the yellow in his hair. _To choose love is the greatest choice of all_. That was what the priest had said, and I had reflected over it many times, but never more than now. _To choose love…_ And I had. And so had he.

“You’ll find a way to get through to him,” said Galmar, once my sobs had finally died down to painful hiccups. “He loves you more than anything. More than me, more than Lia and the girls, more than Windhelm, Skyrim, or the gods. He loves _you_.”

I sniffed, and ran the back of my hand against my nose and against my cheeks. I could almost laugh, I was so exhausted.

“… _Why_?” I finally managed to ask.

It was something I had never fully understood. I don’t consider myself to be someone who suffers from more than usual poor self-esteem. I know that I am clever enough, that I am kind to my friends and to other people in general. I have gotten better at fighting for those I care about. I like books and singing and petting my cat. But I am no one or nothing special.

Galmar sighed, and the hand on my shoulder gave me a gentle squeeze.

“You’re a good lad,” he said, almost as though surprised I didn’t know the answer myself. “A good man. You’re kind, and selfless, and you care about people more than you care about yourself most times. And you make him smile. You’ve sparked a light in his heart when I didn’t think it possible.”

I remembered Lia once telling me how sad he had been before the war—before meeting me. How he used to eat his dinner alone in his apartment instead of with Galmar, Lia, and the girls, who were, for all intents and purposes, his family.

“Did he ever…” I blinked, and sniffed one last time. “Was there ever anyone else? Before me?”

I don’t know why I’d never asked this before. I suppose there was some part of me that didn’t wish to imagine him being with someone else, foolish as that was. And I never liked to ask him anything I wasn’t certain he truly wished to share with me.

“A few,” said Galmar. “When we were young. Other soldiers and the like. But then his father died, and he became jarl. Not much room for a personal life then.” I could feel him gazing at me. “And if you’re wondering if there was ever anyone like _you_ in his life, the answer’s ‘no’. Like it or not, you’re it, Distraction.”

My mouth quirked at that old nickname, and I couldn’t help flashing him a small smile. I wondered then if his initial wariness towards me had stemmed from a fear of my possibly breaking his best friend’s heart.

“Come on,” said Galmar, grunting a little as he shifted to his feet. “We should head back. The others’ll be wondering what’s become of us.”

I was a little worried that everyone would be able to tell from my red eyes and swollen nose that I’d been crying, so I couldn’t help lagging behind a little as we returned to camp. Hasan was standing outside the mouth of the cave, pacing, one hand rubbing repeatedly over the closely-shorn hair of his head. He stopped and looked up as we approached, and though he did do a double take at me—his eyes immediately widening with pity—they soon quickly narrowed again, his lips thinning as well.

“He won’t move,” he said, addressing himself to Galmar. “Nothing I or Ania say will make him budge. He just sits there with his eyes closed.”

“I’ll talk to him,” I said, though I hadn’t any real confidence that he would continue to listen to me anymore. And I confess that I felt some trepidation at confronting him face-to-face after what he had done to me last night.

“Absolutely not,” said Galmar, his expression hardening. “Not after what he did.”

I sighed. I felt too tired to have to deal with this—with _any_ of this.

“Galmar,” I said. “He’s my husband. I’m not afraid of him.” I met his eyes, and hoped myself capable of selling that particular lie. “We need to get him moving, don’t we?”

“Aye, but not if it means risking your life. And after last night—

“I have an idea.”

We both stopped short—I had my hands on my hips, and Galmar was frowning down at me—and turned to look at Eleanor, who cleared her throat self-consciously.

“Well,” she continued, “it’s sort of an idea. I hope. Um. We’re not far from Jehanna City, right?”

Rin, who I hadn’t even noticed until now, was leaning against the side of the cave, arms crossed over his chest. He looked surprised.

“Two days at the most,” he said. “But I don’t think we want to go to Jehanna. Queen Elora isn’t any more welcoming towards outsiders than we are in Farrun.”

“No, but who else is in Jehanna? Or at least said he would be.”

“Nelacar,” I breathed.

Our eyes met, and she nodded.

“Would he even have had time to get there before us?” asked Hasan. “Even assuming he left the same day as us.”

“If this friend of yours was in Farrun,” said Rin slowly. “He’ll likely have traveled to Jehanna by ship.”

“And that wouldn’t take more than a day or two!” said Eleanor.

“Wait,” said Galmar, frowning. “The man swore he’d having nothing more to do with us or else he’d risk jeopardizing his position. What makes you think he’ll go back on that promise?”

“Nelacar’s a good man,” I insisted. “I’ve known him for years now. If I go to him and ask him— _beg_ him to help us, he will.”

“And the Thalmor?” asked Hasan. He looked at Rin. “How far away are they?”

“Impossible to say for certain at this point, but they’ll have had a far harder time tracking us once I joined you. And you were already at least a day or two ahead of them.”

Galmar sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.

“That’s cutting it too close,” he said. “Assuming you convince Nelacar to follow you back here, that’s, what, another two days of travel?”

“Not if we’re on horseback,” I said. “Altogether, we could be there and back again in three days or even less.”

“Not less,” said Rin. “You’ll need to sleep. Even then, the pace would be brutal.”

“Three days then,” I said. “It may be cutting it close, but it’s the only real option we have right now.”

“Even _if_ Nelacar isn’t in Jehanna or refuses to help us, we’ll have access to the university’s library,” said Eleanor. “We may at least be able to find something that could help us break whatever spell the Thalmor put over the jarl.”

“We?” I asked, smiling a little at her.

She rolled her eyes.

“Of _course_ I’m going with you.”

“One of us should accompany them,” said Hasan, but Galmar shook his head.

“Not while the jarl’s like this. I don’t even like Ania being alone with him. And if those damned Thalmor should catch up to us—

“The three of you will not be able to defend your king against them,” said Rin, and it really was the first time I’d heard him look and sound so serious. He was clearly against Eleanor’s plan entirely.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Galmar, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at such stubbornness.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Eleanor and I can go alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” said the prince. “But as I said: the pace will be brutal.”

I could tell from Galmar’s expression that he was searching desperately for a reason to counter my plan. Finally, though, he sighed, his eyes closing briefly.

“Talos’ ass,” he muttered before raising his voice, his eyes meeting mine. “If this actually works—he’ll fucking kill me for letting you do this.”

“Then Lady Lia would kill him,” said Hasan, smiling a little, “So you’d be even.”

Galmar snorted.

With that settled, Eleanor and I began to prepare to depart. We left our bedrolls at camp; we would have to sleep on the ground, for Rin insisted that there was simply no way we would make it to Jehanna without needing to rest. Food we would find and catch and eat along the way. Hasan gave me his salve, since the blisters on my feet still hadn’t fully healed, and I had a feeling Eleanor’s were the same way. And now they were probably only going to get worse.

Finally, we were ready to go.

“Take care of him,” I said to Galmar, doing my very best to keep my emotions in check.

He nodded.

He glanced past me at Eleanor and Rin. “Take care of each other.”

“We will.”

He nodded again and laid a hand on my shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. Then he stepped back and jerked his head towards the woods, and the apparent direction of the city. Eleanor and I exchanged a look before shouldering our packs and hurrying after Rin, who had already started walking.

I never was able to ask after my husband. I suppose there was a part of me that simply preferred not to know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is.
> 
> The scene of Casien weeping after his husband has attacked him, while Galmar tries to comfort him, is the scene that inspired this entire part 3. I always knew this would happen, and I have to say, I was already dreading have to write it even before I started working on this book.
> 
> The good news is, this is probably the lowest point in the narrative for our heroes. It won't be long before things will be looking up again, though that doesn't mean the adventure is anywhere near finished...!
> 
> The song that inspired this scene, this chapter, and really this whole book, is [The Wisp Sings](https://youtu.be/TOsJasWO_Jc) by Winter Aid.
> 
> If you want to listen to it, 3:20 is when Casien has his breakdown.
> 
> Let me sleep  
> I am tired of my grief  
> And I would like you to love me,  
> to love me,  
> to love me.
> 
> This is the night when these woods sigh.
> 
> Come with me  
> There are people who cannot speak  
> Without smiling.
> 
> They would take me from your hand,  
> Or they would try, they would try;  
> This is the murmur of the land,  
> This is the sound of love's marching band,  
> And how they hold you like a gun,  
> And how I sing you like a song  
> I heard when I was young  
> And buried for a night like this.
> 
> (The lyrics do a pretty good job of mimicking Casien's struggle with Ulfric in this book—how others, the Thalmor, everyone, try to take him from him, try to use him for their own purposes, "hold him like a gun." But he won't allow it to happen.)
> 
> EDIT: I have CONSISTENTLY forgotten to credit Auri (diamond-loki@tumblr.com) for coming up with the name "Nzudelft!" So sorry, dear!


	16. Chapter 16

We didn’t speak while we hiked, for we were too busy putting one foot in front of the other. Rin led the way, naturally, and Eleanor was in the middle. I brought up the rear. We were too focused on speed to bother with covering our tracks, though the prince assured us that the size of our footprints would be enough to tell any Thalmor tracker who happened to find them that Ulfric was not with us. If they _did_ come upon our tracks, it was very possible we would be assumed to be locals, hunters or fishers, perhaps. And if they did suspect who we truly were, we would not be considered important enough to follow since the jarl was clearly not with us.

We didn’t stop to rest. When I developed a cramp in my calf, Rin paused long enough to help me stretch it out as much as possible, then instructed me to drink more water from my waterskin. We plucked mushrooms and berries along the way, and once encountered a tree bearing the softest, fuzziest fruit that the prince assured us was a delicacy in Farrun, but we mostly chewed on the last of our dried meat. Only when the sun fell all the way behind the mountains did he find us a place to finally stop.

“You may not be able to sleep at first,” he said, as we flopped wearily down, our backs resting against the immense trunk of a fallen tree, the upright trunk of its fellow forming a sort of cozy barrier to the rest of the forest. “But close your eyes anyway. Try to let your mind rest along with your body.”

We all lay down then, using our packs as pillows and pulling our cloaks over our bodies to ward off the nighttime chill.

“Is anyone else freezing?” Eleanor asked, after a few quiet minutes had passed.

“Lie closer together,” suggested the prince. “Share your body heat.”

“Don’t tell Hanna,” I said, scooching closer to her, “But I’m going to spoon you.”

She snorted, but once we were scrunched up closer together, we were able to use her cloak to cover our top halves and mine to cover our feet. I curled my arms up against my chest and pressed my nose into her shoulder—I was used to a bed partner with long hair, so hers didn’t bother me. The lower half of our bodies pressed together, and I could feel her shivering, and knew she could feel me. But that soon faded, and our weariness swiftly caught up with us. I don’t think I was able to stay awake for much longer.

Yet we weren’t asleep for very long. As soon as the sun had made its way back around and begun to peek back over the eastern horizon, we were up. Two mornings in a row without coffee—not to mention very little sleep—left me with a rather terrific headache. Though it no longer hurt to speak, my neck was stiff and painful. My legs and back muscles were dreadfully sore, too, and I didn’t doubt Eleanor was in the same predicament. I’m sure Rin could tell how miserable we were, but he said nothing, only hurried us on our way once we were ready to continue.

Halfway through the day—we didn’t stop for lunch for we had finally run out of food; Rin told us that we should simply have to bear it, for there wasn’t time to hunt or fish and prepare a proper meal—I began to wonder where the settlements were.

I could distinctly recall the path to and from the city of Farrun; it was well-worn and packed with people and animals. Side roads split off from the main path, leading presumably to farmsteads and smaller settlements on the outskirts of the city itself. It wasn’t all that different from Windhelm or Whiterun, really, though Whiterun’s farms in particular I recalled being far more spread out.

But here there was nothing but forest. The sun was only a few hours away from setting, and still we seemed all but swallowed by the surrounding wilderness. I began to fret that we had overestimated the distance from our temporary camp to Jehanna City, or, even less likely, that Rin had somehow lost his way.

“How much farther?” Eleanor finally asked. Her pace had begun to slacken, and I could tell that the prince had been slowing his own to compensate, but we were still moving at a good clip.

“Not much,” he said over his shoulder.

“Where are all the people?” I ventured to ask.

“Most folk who live outside the city walls live east or west of here. This is the queen’s forest—or king’s forest, depending on who’s on the throne.”

I supposed that made sense, though I had never seen or heard of anything like it. I learned later that those who hunted without permission in the queen’s forest could be fined or even imprisoned if they couldn’t pay the aforementioned fine. The nobility of High Rock were indeed rather strange folk, for though they enjoyed hunting as much as their counterparts in Skyrim, they seemed to think they should have an entire forest to themselves. Sometimes animals were even caught and released in the forest so that the nobles could have a certain style of hunt—a bear hunt, for example, or a stag whose antlers had been painted gold.

I could only imagine what somewhat like Galmar would have said to that.

In the end, we heard the city before we ever saw it. Rin bid us to slow our pace, and I felt relief finally wash over me, for I could hear the telltale signs of civilization: merchants calling out wares, dogs barking, horses jangling their tack. I smelled smoke in the air, too, but before we saw nary a sign of the city itself—the forest suddenly faded behind us, and we found ourselves facing a wall.

It was an exceptionally tall wall, nearly as high as the one that encircled Windhelm, and made of light gray stone, though here and there moss and vines crept up the side of it. A beaten path ran alongside it. When I gazed up, I did spot the tops of a few buildings, but not very many.

Rin stood in front of it, hands on his hips. He looked one way, then the other, before frowning.

“Shouldn’t there be a gate somewhere?” asked Eleanor.

“Oh, we’re not going to use the gate,” said the prince, still apparently trying to make up his mind about—well, whatever it was he was trying to figure out.

“Will you be recognized in Jehanna?” I asked, beginning to understand what he had in mind.

“And two people traveling with the prince of Farrun might warrant the attention of the Thalmor or their sympathizers,” said Eleanor, catching on. She grimaced. “I guess that means we’re sneaking in.”

The prince flashed her a playful look.

“It’s more fun that way anyway.” He finally turned right, heading east. “Come on.”

Twice we had to hurriedly slip back into the forest to escape the notice of guards patrolling the outer wall. But eventually we came upon a tree whose branches had grown in such a way that they would allow us to hop from one of the sturdier, low-hanging branches to the top of the wall. Apparently, this was what Rin had been looking for, and I had a feeling he wasn’t the only one who’d used this particular tree to enter the city in such a clandestine way, but I supposed it was none of my business.

“You want us to climb a _tree_?” asked Eleanor, gazing up at it in dismay, and indeed, the lowest branch was several feet above our heads, though from there, at least, it should be a simple, if precarious, trek towards the wall.

“It’s a lot easier than it looks,” Rin assured her.

He demonstrated, leaping and pushing off against the trunk with one foot to give him a boost, his hands reaching for the branch. He then pulled himself easily up, crouching down and giving us a little smile.

Eleanor just shook her head.

“Nope,” she said. “Not going to happen.”

“Give her a boost,” he said to me. “As if you were going to help her into the saddle. I’ll pull her up.”

“No way,” she insisted. “I’m about as athletic as a cow. Did I tell you about that time I accidentally stepped on a chicken?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to smile.

“No chickens here,” said the prince, “So you should be fine.” He smirked and reached a hand down, waving her up.

She sighed and gave me a look. I just smiled and shrugged, then bent down on one knee and formed a cup with my hands.

“Don’t flip me too far,” she warned, hesitantly putting her boot in my palms.

“I don’t think I really could,” I admitted.

She snorted, then steadied herself, absently resting a hand on the top of my head—I chose not to say anything about that. Once she was ready, I stood up, pushing her up with me. At the same time, she reached up, and the prince caught her by the hand. She gave a little cry of alarm, but before she could flail her legs too much, he’d pulled her all the way up.

“Sweet Nine,” she panted, awkwardly straddling the branch. “I’m in a tree.”

“And I guess I’ll just stay down here,” I said, smiling.

The prince laughed.

“Try to do what I did. Take a running start, if you want. Try to push yourself _up_ off the trunk—not away from it. I promise I’ll catch you.”

It was an awkward business, and it took three tries, but eventually, he managed to pull me up. Once Eleanor and I found our balance, we followed him, walking, hopping, or climbing carefully from one branch to the other, until we were on the branch that stretched out across the wall. The wall itself was at least three feet thick, so we landed easily enough. From there we hurried towards the roof of a building four or so buildings down—and just in time, too, for another guard was just beginning to make his way around.

From the rooftop we climbed through an open window, Rin assuring us that it was perfectly fine, that the proprietor of the place knew him and didn’t mind his presence. Sure enough, the man sitting in a wooden chair, whistling softly, and running a hard-bristled brush over the strip of leather in his lap, looked up in surprise when he saw us, though his expression relaxed quickly enough.

“Evening, Your Highness,” he said, a little smile coming to his face. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” He nodded at us. “Friends of yours?”

“Yes,” said the prince. “Sorry to disturb you, Peryn.”

“Oh, no disturbance at all, no disturbance at all. King in town?”

“No. I’m just visiting.”

“I see. Well, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Thank you, Peryn.”

Eleanor and I hurried to follow as the prince led the way out of the small room.

“He won’t tell anyone he saw us?” asked Eleanor, as we emerged into a back alley, and began to make our way through the city.

“I suppose he would if they asked.”

“But they would have to know to ask,” I said, realizing. “I guess you’ve come this way a lot.”

“Long before I was anyone of significance. I used to think I was being quite clever about it. Then one night he was waiting for me downstairs. Said he’d suspected someone had been entering through his window, but that he didn’t mind, so long as I promised not to steal anything. I said I never had, which was true enough, though more so because he hadn’t really anything of value.”

“You’re a _thief_?” said Eleanor, gazing at him in alarm.

For the first time, he actually looked a little sheepish.

“I had no money—my family had no need for it. Yet I was curious about the world around me. I was allowed to roam, so long as I kept the location of our settlement a secret.”

“Why are your family so reclusive?” I asked, before Eleanor could press him on the matter.

“Refugees from a time when slavery wasn’t so uncommon in Tamriel, or so I understand it. The folk who founded the settlement have long since passed, and my mother and grandmother didn’t like to speak of it.”

“Did you have to choose?” I asked. “Between your family and King Alain?”

“Yes,” came the short reply, but as no further explanation was forthcoming, I decided not to press him further, and neither did Eleanor.

We were fully into the heart of the city by now. We blended in easily enough: two mer and a Breton, clearly travelers with our packs on our backs—and clearly in need of a good bath and a meal, too, but that only served to help make us even more indistinguishable. Jehanna City was very much like Farrun, though it’s streets seemed somewhat more narrow, and its population more diverse. I even saw a few Nords—they were hard to miss, towering over most other folk, with their often light-colored hair and eyes. Dusk was falling over the city, too, and people were making their way from whatever business they’d had during the day back to their homes, so I suspected the streets were even more crowded than normal.

We moved in a vaguely northerly direction, and I began to hear and see seagulls—Jehanna was a port city, after all—though the docks were no doubt still far away. In the near distance I saw two tall structures that towered over the rest of the city. One I suspected must be the palace. And considering our destination, the other I thought might be the university.

I was right about the buildings. Just not about our destination.

“Why are we heading towards the palace?” Eleanor hissed, as she and I both tried to act as normal as possible (and hence likely looked like a pair of escapees from the mad house) as we passed a pair of city guards.

“Because if you two try to enter the university looking as you do now the results might be less than satisfactory.”

“Oh,” said Eleanor, looking down at herself and grimacing. “I guess we probably don’t smell the greatest, either.”

The prince smiled.

“No comment. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of that.”

It took a few seconds before I realized what he must mean. After all, as the prince of Farrun, he must have a set of rooms always available to him at the palace, even in Jehanna. In Windhelm, for example, the jarls, their stewards, the hold’s mayors, and many other visiting dignitaries all had their favorite rooms at the palace. And a mayor would never be placed in a room fit for a jarl, and vice versa. All in all, it must have meant that…

“We’re going to get to take a bath?” I asked, trying my very hardest not to sound as breathlessly excited as I felt.

Eleanor snorted.

“Word of caution,” she said, “He’ll use up all your fancy soaps and oils if you don’t hide them.”

“Ha, ha,” I said, scowling when the prince actually guffawed. “Don’t laugh! She’s not funny!”

Of course, it couldn’t ever be so simple as walking up to the front gates of the palace and announcing our presence. True, I wasn’t even supposed to be here, but there wasn’t much chance of anyone being able to identify me. No, Rin just seemed to have a penchant for eschewing the front door. When asked why it was we were sneaking around the side of the palace before striding through the servants’ yard and waiting for the coast to be clear as we let ourselves through an ornamental little gate which led into what appeared to be a rose garden—he responded by assuring us it would have been tiresome to enter the palace in any official capacity, for he would most assuredly have been waylaid, and if we could avoid encountering Queen Elora altogether, all the better. I supposed there was some sense to that; under no circumstances should the queen of Jehanna learn that the husband of the High King of Skyrim was under her roof, for instance. We were also fairly pressed for time, for with the sun going down, it might be harder to locate Nelacar—especially if he weren’t residing within the university itself.

Rin led us through the rose garden, pausing to silently let a pair of oblivious nobles stroll past us before leading us towards a pair of windowed doors. Once inside, we turned right to head up what were clearly servants’ stairs. Just as they were back home, the servants we passed were too busy to bother questioning our identity or whether we belonged there, though one or two did glance at us and wrinkle their noses as we passed.

Out onto the second floor, and the hallway was thankfully empty. The carpeted floor muffled our footsteps, and soon we paused before a door. It was unlocked—not surprising, as we never locked the guest rooms back home, either—so we slipped inside.

It was—well, it was a room fit for a king (and his prince). There was no sitting room, but the room itself was immense, as was the four poster bed taking up the bulk of the space off to our left. The floor was covered in heavy, intricate wall-to-wall rugs; equally impressive tapestries hung from the walls. Nearly floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto the rose garden below, and beyond that, the harbor was just visible. There were large, heavy pieces of wooden furniture, plush couches and chairs, and a mirror next to one of the large wardrobes that was taller than I was.

“Nine…” breathed Eleanor, as we both paused to take in the room’s opulence. I couldn’t help frowning at her a little, for I personally felt it lacked a lot of the warmth our rooms in the palace had. Certainly, my own apartment was both larger and cozier.

“The washroom is this way,” said Rin, and he must have caught my frown for his own lips were twitching slightly at the corners. I tried not to blush.

Not surprisingly, the washroom was comparably lux. The large washtub dominated the room, and since we were pressed for time, Eleanor and I agreed to make use of it together, so long as we kept our backs to one another.

I had to resist the urge to whimper with pleasure as I lowered myself into the deliciously hot water. I heard Eleanor immediately beginning to vigorously dunk and scrub through her hair, but I refused to rush this until absolutely necessary. I closed my eyes, and briefly imagined myself back home—a book in my hands, the scent of vanilla and rosemary filling my nose, Chomper asleep on the rug nearby.

“Stop sighing and start washing,” said Eleanor. “We have to hurry, or we’ll miss Nelacar.”

I started guiltily and reached for a nearby bar of soap. It was pink and formed into the shape of a rose, and… yes, it smelled like one, too. I spared a moment of sorrow that I wouldn’t be able to appreciate it the way it deserved before quickly moving to mimic my friend.

Afterward, we wrapped towels around ourselves and used another to dry our hair before reaching for the clothing the prince had found for us. We both froze, however—I was in the process of pulling on a fresh pair of smallclothes, the soft fabric still smelling like the bag of herbs which had no doubt been placed in the drawer beside it, and I’m not sure what Eleanor was doing, since we were facing away from one another—when there was a sudden knock at the main door.

After a second, we heard the door open.

“Hello,” said the prince.

“Your Highness!” said the voice on the other side of the doorway—presumably a servant. “I’m so sorry to disturb you! We just heard the water running through the pipes, and no one had seen you or King Alain arrive, and we thought—

“It’s just me,” said Rin. “I won’t be staying long.”

“Oh, of course, Your Highness! Could—er, should we send anything up? Dinner, perhaps?”

“Dinner would be lovely. Thank you.”

I don’t think I breathed until the door closed again. Eleanor and I both exchanged a hasty look over our shoulders before we quickly finished getting dressed. We brushed our teeth, and I made use of the shaving razor and cream—it smelled like honey and oats; I vowed in that moment to open trade negotiations concerning bath products with High Rock as soon as we were back home—before making our still slightly damp way back into the main room.

“Don’t you two clean up pretty,” said the prince, smiling.

He was perched on the end of the still made bed, legs folded up under him, as if he’d been waiting for us. Which, I supposed, he had.

“Thank you for the clothing,” said Eleanor. “Is this supposed to be… I mean, is this common folk clothing?”

“Also, I’m assuming we shouldn’t ask why you have multiple sets of what essentially amounts to a disguise in the closet of your guest room in Jehanna.” I said, tugging absently at the collar, for, like all the prince’s borrowed clothing, it was a little tight on me.

Rin just beamed at us both.

“Yes, it’s common enough. You should blend in nicely. And you look well enough to enter the university without anyone thinking you don’t belong there.” He glanced toward the window, where darkness had already begun to settle over the rose garden. “You’d better hurry, or you’ll miss your friend.”

“How do we get out?” asked Eleanor. “Surely not the same way we came in.”

“Oh, no. Well, you should take the same stairs, but head right instead of left. Follow the long hallway, and several of the doors on your left should open onto the yard we passed through. It will take a bit longer, but if you were to be seen in the rose garden—well, it might be some time before I could get to you and rescue you. And then I might have to explain who you are.”

“Which would be bad,” I said, blanching at the thought. “All right.” I nodded, my eyes meeting his again. “Should we meet you somewhere afterward?”

“There’s an inn called The Red Lady. Your friend should know where it is. I’ll be there.”

There’s some truth to the whole _seen and not heard_ stereotype concerning servants. I don’t know. Maybe it helped that I had been a servant myself. But Eleanor and I quietly passed more than one impressively dressed person, and they never spared us so much as a second glance. I knew it had nothing to do with race, either, for Eleanor was a Breton and we were in High Rock, and besides, so far as I knew, Bretons had no prejudices against Dunmer. Yet here I was, husband to the High King—the second most influential person in Skyrim, some might say, much as it pained me to consider myself as such—and yet no one was any the wiser.

I knew from experience, too, that in a palace, there are too many servants for everyone to know one another. Workers passed us by with armloads of laundry or cleaning supplies and didn’t bother to ask who we were or what our purpose was. We weren’t wearing uniforms, so I doubt anyone mistook us for servants, but we could easily have been making deliveries from outside the palace or conveying messages or any other such thing.

“That was a little easier than I thought it would be,” said Eleanor, once we were outside again, and making our way quickly towards the university.

I shrugged.

“Most people are too preoccupied with their own tasks and lives to pay attention to others. Even beyond that, they just don’t care. Guards are the only exception, I guess, since that’s kind of their job.”

She glanced at me, frowning.

“There you go again, sounding as if you’re speaking from experience. I don’t know why, but I always forget how hard you used to have it. But I guess _you_ never really forget it.”

“No,” I admitted, “And most of the time, that life seems more real to me than my current one does.”

At least we didn’t need directions to the university, for its tall, vaguely imposing towers loomed over the eastern half of the city. Before coming here, I hadn’t even known there _were_ any places of higher learning in northern High Rock, but Eleanor told me they were more common in this country than in Skyrim—obviously, as Skyrim had only the college in Winterhold, and, furthermore, dealt almost solely with magical research and practice. Schools in High Rock did cater to mages, especially if they had originally evolved from the old mages guild, but they also offered other areas of study, such as history and philosophy, and one academy in Wayrest was dedicated exclusively to Dwemer research and a new, practical application of that research called engineering. It was all both exciting yet rather terrifying and depressing, for I couldn’t help musing over my own ignorance.

Bells were tolling as we made our way up towards the main entrance to the university. People were filing out, some in traditional robes, others in tunics and trousers, chatting loudly and amiably with one another. There were calls for dinner and drinks, invitations to so-and-so’s home or rooms or dorm, and well wishes for the night.

Eleanor and I slipped past them all, at first too nervous to make eye contact, let alone actually try to speak to someone. But, eventually, we had to steal our resolve and approach an elderly woman who was carefully polishing what looked like an ancient clock. She was too well-dressed to be a servant, so I supposed she must be a professor.

“Excuse me,” said Eleanor.

The woman paused to survey her handiwork, wrinkling her nose slightly before giving us a distracted look.

“Yes?”

“We’re looking for Nelacar,” I said. “He’s—a friend of ours.”

“He said he would be here,” said Eleanor quickly.

She gave us a second, more curious look.

“Professor Nelacar! Whatever could two pleasant-looking young people such as yourselves want with that old coot?” She huffed sort of congenially under her breath. “Well, he’s down that corridor, if you’re really sure he’s the one you want to see. Eighth—no, ninth door on the left, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Thank you,” I said.

She waved us off before returning to the clock.

“ _Professor_ Nelacar?” hissed Eleanor, as we began to make our way towards the indicated corridor.

I couldn’t help snorting a little.

“I’ll bet Professor Aren would have a lot to say about _that_ ,” I muttered back.

It all felt very familiar—the wide halls, the well-worn rugs adorning the stone floors, the high ceilings, the pleasant scent of paper and parchment lingering and mingling in the air with the equally pleasant scent of magic. We passed no one as we walked, save the tall, wooden doors that presumably led to faculty or staff offices. Each had a little plaque by the door that contained the occupant’s name and area of study. When we reached the one that said “Professor Nelacar” with the word “enchantment” in slightly smaller print below it, we finally paused, took a deep breath, and exchanged a look.

After a moment, I lifted my hand and knocked.

Nothing.

“Try again,” said Eleanor.

So I did. But still there was no answer.

“Maybe he went home already,” I said, feeling the panic which had been lying only momentarily dormant within me beginning to rise again.

“Or he just went to the washroom?” she suggested.

I don’t know what made me do it—the aforementioned panic, perhaps, or the still lingering soreness in my neck and throat, or the thought of the Thalmor finally catching up to the people I loved—but I just reached for the handle and turned it.

It was unlocked.

Eleanor gave me a wide-eyed look.

“Who is that?” said the familiar voice from within, sounding understandably irked. “If that’s Amell I’ve already told you, I’m not to be disturbed!”

“Nelacar?” I said, slowly easing the door open and peeking my head in. Eventually, Eleanor slipped in beside me, both of us blinking at Nelacar, who stared at us with wide eyes from behind his large desk.

“Sorry,” I said. “I know we’re the last people you were expect—

“You!!” he breathed, all the color draining from his face. He rose to his feet, hands gripping the edges of his desk. “You are _not_ supposed to be here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter took quite a bit of time since I had to do some world-building. Now, hmm... I wonder why Nelacar looks so startled and upset? I suppose we'll find out soon...
> 
> By the way, I have mostly left Tumblr, though I haven't erased a thing, so if you still want to peruse the Casien tag, go wild! [Tumblr (Casien's tag)](https://curiousartemis.tumblr.com/tagged/casien%20yedlin)
> 
> I am, however, on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/CuriousArtemis) and [Dreamwidth](https://curiousartemis.dreamwidth.org/)! Feel free to give me a follow!
> 
> I also created a Discord for the story!! Several readers have already joined, so join now to get in on the fun! Okay, it's mostly just to have a place to post updates, though chatting amongst ourselves is a-okay too! :)))  
> [Casien and Friends Discord Chatroom](https://discord.gg/tzJnh4)  
>   
> (Please note, the link will be void in 24 hours, so I'll try to remember to post another one. Alternatively, you can just friend me on Discord: Artemis#3960)


	17. Chapter 17

“What?” I said, shrinking instinctively back from him, Eleanor beside me doing the same. “Why?”

Nelacar made a frustrated sound under his breath before slipping around his desk and hurrying towards us. He made an irritable gesture with one hand, indicating that we should step all the way inside, before hastily closing the door behind us.

“Tell me _HE_ is not with you,” he said, turning to glare fiercely down at us.

“No,” I said, his unease causing my own panic to start to rise again, “He’s not. We left him and the others about two—

“No!” said Nelacar, flinging his hands up and shaking his head. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know!”

“But we need your help!” said Eleanor.

“You most certainly do not!” he said, looking so affronted you’d think she’d just given him some grave insult. “In fact, I can scarcely imagine what the two of you are even doing in my office, let alone how you knew where to find me. After all, I’ve not seen the both of you since you left Winterhold nearly three months ago, and I’m quite certain I gave nary a mention as to where I should be traveling myself!”

Eleanor just crossed her arms and looked at him.

“Nelacar,” I said, pleading. “I wouldn’t have come if—if there were any other way. We’re…”

“Oh, dear,” he said, blinking and narrowing his eyes, which had dropped down to my neck. I tried not to wince as he brought one hand up and gently touched the bruised skin, tilting the collar of my borrowed shirt and huffing in dismay as some of the deeper bruises were revealed.

“…His work?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine.

I didn’t answer.

“It didn’t work,” said Eleanor. “Casien got him as far as he could, but now, after this…” she gestured vaguely towards my neck. “He won’t even move. If we don’t break the spell—

“He will either kill you or be recaptured,” said Nelacar, nodding thoughtfully.

I kept my lips pressed together, for I _wanted_ to claim that no matter his mental state, my husband could never truly bring himself to kill me. But it would have no doubt seemed a ludicrous attempt at denying the reality of the situation, for all the evidence to the contrary still encircled my throat.

“I suspected we might be too late,” he said, sighing. “I had hoped that Galmar was correct, and that seeing, hearing, and touching you would be sufficient, but clearly it was not.”

“And is there really nothing else?” asked Eleanor. “Anything? Maybe something you didn’t consider, something you previously thought was too dangerous to try, or—

“Dangerous!” he said, starting and glaring down at both of us. “Do you know how much danger you are in _now_ , coming here of all places! Why, I have only just received word that Melaran’s ship will dock, if not tonight, then certainly sometime tomorrow morning! And if he should find the two of you here, speaking to _me_ of all people…!”

“Are you _still_ worried about your bloody position?” snapped Eleanor. “Maybe you don’t care about Skyrim, or its high king, or its _people_ , but what about Casien?” She pointed at me, and I think both Nelacar _and_ I were staring at her with slightly wider than normal eyes. “Don’t you care about _him_? Isn’t he your friend? You try to act like you’re above everyone and don’t care about anything or anyone, but I know that isn’t true!

“And do you know,” she continued, taking a step forward, and thereby obliging a flummoxed Nelacar to take a hasty step back, “that Galmar was _against_ letting him come here. He didn’t trust you. He said you’d never help us, but Casien said you _would_. He said you were a good man! He said he _believed_ in you!”

Nelacar was blinking rather rapidly now, which I do believe was some sort of expression of great emotion for him. He turned to look at me, his lips fluttering helplessly for a moment, before finally managing to ask: “Did you _really_ say that about me?”

I could feel myself blushing, and resisted the urge to glare at a triumphant looking Eleanor.

“Maybe,” I muttered.

Nelacar breathed in.

“Well,” he said, “That is quite—well! I suppose there _is_ something. But…”

“What?” I asked, my embarrassment fading as quickly as it had come. “Tell us, _please_!”

“It will be dangerous,” he said, sighing. “ _Very_ dangerous. And I will have to come with you.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I insisted. “Rin will secure us horses, I’m sure, and I promise we’re at most a day’s ride away from the others.”

“Rin?” he asked, his brow wrinkling slightly. But then he shook his head. “You mistake my concern, my boy. As soon as Melaran arrives, I’ve no doubt he will make his way here—or to my temporary residence, should he arrive sometime tonight, after hours. If I cannot be found, that will immediately ignite suspicion. I daresay we will not be able to leave the city should that happen.”

“And even if he arrives after we leave, he’ll follow us,” I finished, despair slowly settling over me again.

“We can work with that,” said Eleanor slowly, and as I looked at her, I was suddenly reminded of why I had asked her to accompany me on this journey in the first place. Yes, she was my best friend, but she was also the cleverest person I knew—of _course_ she would have a plan.

“First, you set an enchantment here, in your office,” she continued.

“To what effect?” he asked, clearly intrigued.

“A warning enchantment. One that will alert you the second someone tries to enter this room. You can tell the cleaning staff and anyone else once we leave that your office is not to be disturbed, so you’ll know if someone does try to enter, it isn’t anyone from the college.”

“So we’ll know the second Melaran discovers I am not here,” he mused. “Assuming he has been to my apartment first. Clever enough, as that will give us fair warning, and send us quickly on our way. But then he shall follow, and even assuming I am successful in breaking the spell on your high king, that still leaves me in a rather unfortunate predicament.”

“That part’s easy, too,” said Eleanor, shrugging. “We make it look as if we kidnapped you and forced you to break the spell. When Melaran finds you, we’ll be long gone, and you can claim your innocence.”

I thought this second part of the plan was absurd, for surely Nelacar would never willingly put himself in such danger.

But I underestimated him. In truth, he never really had shown himself to be faint of heart. I think he was just the type of person who had to remain in control of a situation, and he certainly felt surprisingly passionate about his role as a dissident within the Thalmor organization. If he could help us without jeopardizing that role…

“Very well,” he finally said, albeit with a slight sigh. “And I suppose you have some sort of destination in mind? Some way to return to Skyrim that does _not_ involve either of the port cities?”

“We do,” said Eleanor firmly.

I hesitated for a moment before asking, “Do you want us to tell you?”

He sighed again.

“You may as well. I fear I am already in far too deep to back out now. And it shall no doubt help convince Melaran of my innocence if I tell him I have some knowledge of your destination.”

“What?!” I said. “Why would you do that? He’ll almost certainly follow us then!”

He gave me a look.

“Of course he will follow you, my boy. He is going to do that anyway, whether he knows your true destination or not. But this way, he will be assured of my willingness to help him recover his prize—the loss of which has no doubt sparked rather a great deal of outrage among our superiors, and Melaran shall not want to return to the justiciars empty-handed. Now. Where _is_ your destination? Not south towards Hammerfell, surely not.”

“Nzudelft,” said Eleanor.

Nelacar blinked, then blinked again.

“Come again? I could have sworn you just said _Nzudelft_. And if so, that would mean you intend to locate the entrance to an ancient Dwemer city that lies within the heart of the Druadachs—to find Almzchend, the road which is believed to cut a path from northern High Rock to the Reach in Skyrim.”

Eleanor and I exchanged an anxious look.

“…Yes?” I said.

“Nzudelft. A city which may not even exist anymore since the university declared Almzchend unsafe, seeing as how several expeditions resulted in so many deaths, and only some of those caused by naturally decaying and unstable rock face, and crumbling architecture that is likely thousands of centuries old.”

“…What did the rest die of?” Eleanor asked.

“Why, Dwemer machines, of course, still alive and patrolling the road and the city as if they’d been constructed and given life yesterday. Spiders that shoot jolts of electricity, and monstrous metal creatures that roll along faster than any human or mer can run, their appendages flashing razors sharper than any blade produced by a mortal blacksmith. Oh, and we mustn’t forget the centurions!”

“The centurions,” I said, looking at Eleanor again. “What… What are those?”

“Are you both out of your minds?!” he finally asked. “A Dwemer city? Why not just give yourselves up to the Thalmor and be done with it! Though I suppose…” he paused abruptly, one finger going to his lips as his eyes narrowed. “If your High King manages to reclaim his mind, he will have his legendary Thu’um. That would take care of the spiders and spheres. Should you encounter a centurion… well, my first suggestion would be to run, but they should be at least mildly susceptible to flame spells. But it’s possible that would only result in a centurion that, in addition to being programmed to kill you, is now on fire.”

“Look,” said Eleanor, clearly bristling, “It’s really our only option at this point. If you have some _other_ idea in mind, by all means—

“No, no,” said Nelacar, frowning and waving his hand at her. “You needn’t get upset. It isn’t the worst idea, I must admit. And the Thalmor will certainly hesitate before pursuing you _there._ I believe the college in Wayrest still sends expeditions to Nzudelft from time to time. But at present, I do not believe there are any who have been brave enough to travel all the way through to the other side. No one knows for certain how long it would take—to that end, you will have to take quite a bit of food with you, for there will certainly be nothing living and growing in the pitch dark of the bowels of a mountain.”

Eleanor looked deflated, and I didn’t blame her. She had worked hard at convincing Galmar that her plan was solid, though I had always suspected that she harbored personal misgivings. But she was right, too, in asserting that it really was the safest bet at present. The Thalmor likely had the northern shore of High Rock thoroughly locked down at this point. Heading south would add months to our journey, and was nearly as uncertain as traveling through the ruins.

“I am certain the library here at the university must have a few records of the latest expeditions,” Nelacar continued. “In fact, perhaps I might go and search for them now. Then I shall meet you at—well, I was going to suggest my own place of residence, but I do not think that would be wise.”

“Rin said we should all meet at the Red Lady,” I said. “Do you know it?”

He blinked.

“The Red Lady? Goodness, this friend of yours has rather low tastes. But I suppose it _is_ situated rather far from both the university and the palace, and is close to the southernmost city gate. Well, well.” He tapped his finger against his lips. “Perhaps you had best simply accompany me to the library, then we may walk there together.”

“Don’t forget the warning enchantment,” said Eleanor.

“Ah. Indeed. Thank you.”

We waited for him to gather a few of his things then before we all three stepped outside of the office. I watched as he held his hand up, his eyes narrowed in concentration. A little ball of light appeared, sizzling and crackling faintly. He flicked his hand towards the door, sending the ball hurtling gently towards it—where it hit the wood silently, the entire door briefly turning golden before fading back to seeming normalcy.

The halls were mostly empty now as we made our way towards the library. The sun had finally gone down, so the large windows on the west side of the building were dark. Magically-lit candles and braziers lit the way instead.

I could smell the library before I saw it. We finally paused before the large, open pair of double doors, the wondrous scent of ink and old pages and scrolls filtering out into the hallway. Nelacar told us to lose ourselves inside it for a bit, for he needed to go and speak with some of the staff, to instruct him that his office was not to be disturbed.

“This is incredible,” whispered Eleanor, her eyes traveling up and up, following the tallest bookshelves, which stretched two stories high.

It really was. But I surprised her by being in no mood to peruse any of the shelves, opting instead to sit down at a nearby table, and try not to fall asleep as I rested my cheek on my hand.

Eleanor sat down across from me.

“At least he seems to have a plan,” she said, evidently picking up on my mood. “How dangerous can it really be?”

I shrugged, and didn’t answer at first, for I felt suddenly rather listless.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” I said after a while. “If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. And then... I don’t know.”

She fell silent, then, and didn’t disturb me again. Eventually, I must have dozed off, and I suspect she did, too—I’m surprised none of the librarians came and shooed us away, but perhaps they mistook us for a pair of students. But it didn’t feel like much time had passed before someone was shaking me gently by the shoulder.

I breathed in and sat up, blinking up at Nelacar.

“Shall we?” he said, smiling a little. I noticed he had a couple of books tucked under one arm, several documents nestled into the topmost book’s pages. Eleanor and I both nodded and stood up, and together we made our way out of the library and soon out of the building.

“This friend of yours is from the college?” asked Nelacar, after we had been walking for some time.

“Oh,” I said, blinking slowly and hesitating. “No, he’s…” I glanced at Eleanor. “Maybe we should just wait for you to meet him.”

There was a lull within the streets of Jehanna, not unlike what I had observed in Windhelm, when most folk were back at home and enjoying their dinner. An hour or so later, those seeking pleasure and entertainment would be back out, though it still wasn’t necessarily dangerous until an hour or so after _that_ , when many of those revelers were well into their cups. I knew better now than to wander a city at such a time of night—not that I was really allowed to do so back home.

The Red Lady was indeed situated in more of a working class neighborhood than the university. The buildings were closer together here, and I suspected that many did not have access to proper plumbing, if the smell in the alleys was anything to judge by. I hoped the inn would at least have a flush toilet, even if it were located in an outhouse.

The streets may have been nearly deserted, but the common room of the Red Lady was filled to the brim with a raucous, friendly crowd. Folk laughed and drank and enjoyed their dinners, the smell of which set my stomach to gurgling painfully, and I realized then that I hadn’t really eaten anything since this morning—no wonder I felt so faint, and I suspected Eleanor likely felt the same.

Rin finally spotted us and waved cheerfully from his table in the corner. I led the way, Eleanor behind me, Nelacar holding his books and bag in one hand, and the side of his robe in the other, as if he feared having to actually touch any of the inn’s other patrons.

 “I was wondering if you had both abandoned me,” said the prince, the smile never leaving his face as he lounged back in his seat. “I confess to being a little disappointed at the prospect. I’m not quite ready to give up the adventure just yet.”

“Is this for us?” asked Eleanor, ignoring his teasing and immediately plopping down in front of one of the bowls of what looked like a very hearty stew. There was also a long loaf of bread in the center of the table, a piece of which had been peeled off, and presumably consumed by Rin.

“It’s probably cold by now,” he said. “I’ve been waiting here for quite some time.”

I sat down next to Eleanor, and hungrily pulled my bowl of stew closer to me before reaching for the large spoon. I started to dig into it—but that’s when I realized Nelacar was still standing, and staring, of course, in apparent wide-eyed shock at the prince.

“Blessed Auri-el,” he breathed. “You’re the—” But he seemed to catch himself, choking on the words before he could utter them.

“Auri-el have mercy on my soul,” he murmured as he finally sank down beside us. He rubbed his face, which suddenly looked very, very tired. “ _How_ did you somehow manage to make this even _more_ politically complicated?”

I shrugged but didn’t respond, for I had a mouth full of stew, and I may have been raised on a farm, but I had manners, too.

“Hello,” said the prince, “You must be Nelacar.”

“I am,” came the reply. “Will no one put me out of my misery and explain what’s going on? Or do you all take pleasure in teasing an old man?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” said Eleanor, rolling her eyes. “Rin was out hunting when we happened to be busy rescuing the jarl. He followed us and offered to help.”

“And could you not simply have gone to the—” Nelacar paused abruptly and grimaced before lowering his voice. “Your husband?”

Rin shook his head.

“The situation’s still too complicated for that. In fact, I think there’s a good chance that Allie would feel obliged to turn them in.”

“But Farrun is not at _war_ with Skyrim,” insisted Nelacar. “Is your husband really so loyal to his—friends?”

“He’s loyal to Farrun,” said Rin, the lazy smile on his face belying the sudden sharp tone in his voice. “He’d never do anything that might jeopardize the safety of his people.”

I sighed and set my spoon down. Blessed Azura, but I was _tired_. Tired of the squabbling, tired of the arguing, tired of the second-guessing, the mistrust, the sneaking, the hiding, the anger, the fear. I could honestly give a skeever’s rotten ass about politics right now.

“What’s wrong?” asked Eleanor.

I pressed my lips together and forced myself to take a deep breath before speaking.

“I think I’d like to go to bed,” I said. My eyes met Rin’s. “Do we have rooms here?”

He nodded and shifted, digging into his pocket before pulling out a key and handing it to me.

“Not ‘rooms’ plural, though. Unfortunately, we’re all sharing,” he said. “I thought it would look too suspicious if I asked for four rooms for four different people.”

“There’s more than one bed, though, right?” asked Eleanor.

“Two beds,” said the prince, adding with a teasing smile, “So you get to decide who to cuddle with.”

“You can sleep with me,” I said, standing, and suddenly feeling as if I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s fine.”

“Do you want me to come up with you?” she asked.

“No,” I said quickly—perhaps a little too quickly, for she blinked and sat back a little.

I sighed.

“Sorry,” I said, “I just want to be alone for a little bit.”

“Okay,” she said, looking more than a little worried, but I couldn’t bring myself to assuage her concerns. I really did just want to be alone—just for a little while.

“There’s a communal washroom down at the end of each hall,” said Rin. “I don’t recommend bathing, but they do have toilets. I mean, I don’t recommend those either, but I guess it’s not really something you can avoid.”

I nodded and turned to leave. A few patrons glanced at me as I made my way through the crowded common room, but luckily no one tried to speak to me or otherwise stop me. I made use of the communal washroom—it was rather filthy; I grimaced and forced myself to breathe through my mouth the entire time. Afterward, I matched the number on the key to the wooden plaque next to the door and let myself into our room for the night.

Exhaustion set in almost immediately. I collapsed onto the closest bed and lay on my back, letting my eyes close, not even bothering to take off my boots. It was probably foolish of me, being up here alone, not setting wards of any kind, for the room did have a window, but—again, I was _tired_. I could no longer really devote any significant amount of thought to being cautious, to strategy, to staying one step ahead of the enemy.

I just wanted to be back at home.

I wanted to wake up in my bed, with my cat’s tail in my face, and my husband’s heavy hand resting on my hip.

I wanted to sink my toes into the soft carpet, listen to the roar of the bay outside our window, smell the hot coffee as I held it up to my nose.

I sighed, quietly, too tired to try and convince myself that all of this would once again come to pass. Instead, I fell asleep, and dreamed of happier days and nights.

//

I was again awakened by a hand on my shoulder.

I sat up quickly, for this time Nelacar was not smiling. Beside me, Eleanor stirred as well.

“The warning spell has gone off,” he said. “We need to leave. Now.”

In less than a minute, we were all three heading back downstairs. The common room was mostly deserted; a young man was manning the bar, though he had a book in front of him, his cheek resting on his hand. He looked up at us in absent surprise as we made our way past before returning to his book.

Outside, the sky was dark as pitch. It must have been cloudy, for I could spot neither the stars nor the moons, which were both nearly new. Not surprisingly, Rin was already there, waiting with the horses—where he’d gotten them, I hadn’t a clue, but it didn’t seem to matter at present. We mounted, and he led the way towards the southern city gate. I road beside Eleanor, and we both exchanged a look as we passed by the guards there—I probably held my breath, as well—but they didn’t pay us any mind.

And then we were out of the city. The southern road stretched before us, well-worn and packed with gravel, though I suspected that would only last for so long. I wondered if this was the main road that would eventually lead all the way down to Evermore. Whether it was or not, however, Rin soon steered us away from it, so that we slipped back into the forest we had left less than 24 hours ago.

He pushed us—and the horses—as hard as he could. It was hard for Eleanor and myself, but we hadn’t much choice, for there were now Thalmor behind us as well as ahead of us, and between them both, my husband and our family. I wondered at Rin’s ability to see in the dim pre-dawn light, but I had heard that Bosmer have even better eyesight than other mer, so perhaps that was true. We stopped only twice to relieve ourselves and scarf down rations Rin had apparently taken from the palace.

All of this at the tail end of three nights of very poor sleep meant I could barely stay in the saddle by the time we finally came upon the small cave. We had ridden for nearly a full day, and only occasionally slowed the horses down to a walk so that we wouldn’t lose them completely. As it was, they were all covered in foam and in danger of foundering—if some hadn’t succumbed to it already.

It was Ania who was standing on guard at the cave’s mouth. She hurried towards me, catching me as I slid off the horse.

“You did it,” she said, her eyes wide. “You really brought him!”

“Yes,” I said. “How is he? How are the others?”

“Father’s inside, sleeping. Hasan’s with Uncle.”

I nodded and turned to head inside. My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness as I passed Galmar’s still form. He must have been utterly exhausted to have not even noticed our arrival. Small wonder, if between the three of them, one must always be with the king and the other standing guard at the cave’s entrance.

I ducked to enter the cave, my eyes meeting Hasan’s first before sliding towards my husband’s.

“Oh…” I murmured, for that was all I could manage as I realized what they’d had to do to him.

His eyes regarded mine placidly enough. But the lower half of his face was hidden by a scarf—the very one I had worn over my hair as we left Windhelm—and his hands were bound before him. I supposed he allowed himself the dignity of relieving himself when he needed to, and they no doubt took him outside to do so. But I suspected he was still refusing to be moved.

In fact, it was far worse than that.

“He refuses to eat or drink,” said Hasan quietly. “Food won’t necessarily be an issue right away, but without water…”

I nodded, and knelt down before my husband. He continued to meet my eyes, his expression unchanged. I hesitated before lifting one hand and resting my palm against his cheek, half of which was covered by the scarf.

I stroked his skin with my thumb, and thought to tell him something, to say that I loved him, that we were going to cure him. But I couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“Hello, Nelacar,” said Hasan, and I glanced over my shoulder to watch as Nelacar came to join me.

“Hello, again, Commander,” came the pleasant reply—you would never have suspected he’d just ridden all day after only a few hours of sleep. “Perhaps you might give us a bit of space?”

Hasan gave me an uncertain look.

“It’s all right,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”

And if we weren’t? Well, it was as I’d told Eleanor yesterday evening. If this didn’t work, we were out of ideas. It was, so far as I could tell, the end of the road.

Once Hasan left, Nelacar settled himself down on the ground, facing me and the king.

“You should let yourself get comfortable,” he said. “You may be sitting here for quite some time.”

I frowned, wondering what exactly it was he had in mind that would take so long. But before I did as he suggested, I leaned impulsively forward, reaching up for the scarf that was bound around the lower half of my husband’s face. I could wait no longer; I couldn’t bear to see him bound and gagged like some animal or common criminal.

“Wait,” said Nelacar.

He reached out and gently pushed me back before seeming to concentrate, then waved his hand slowly before the king’s face. The tension between my husband’s eyes seemed to slowly vanish, and when he looked at me, his expression was almost… peaceful.

“A calming spell,” I said dully. I couldn’t help giving Nelacar an accusatory look. “That’s mind-altering magic.”

“It is,” he said. “But better that than to have him Shout you to pieces before we’ve even begun. And it may help with what we’re about to do,” he continued quickly, for I must have glared at him something fierce. “If his mind is at peace, that can only be a good thing.”

“What _are_ we about to do?” I asked, as I leaned forward once more and began to untie the scarf. I grimaced when it fell away, only to reveal a bit of burlap which had been carefully stuffed into his mouth, gagging him. I removed it as well, tossing it aside, before working on the knots that bound his wrists.

“I told you the spell on your king was very much like illusion magic, did I not?”

I nodded absently.

“And so it is—and yet it is so very different from that branch of magic and any other branch studied in Winterhold, or indeed known to most humans and mer throughout Tamriel. For this type of magic is also akin to daedric magic.”

“Daedric magic!”

I looked at him, for I hadn’t known such a thing were even possible—why, that was as much as referring to it as _godly_ magic, in a way, and even after all I’d been through, I still wasn’t quite convinced the gods themselves were even real, at least not in the way we understood them.

“Yes,” Nelacar continued, “You see, a small portion of your king’s mind has essentially been sealed in a—a sort of pocket realm, I suppose we might call it. It is not unlike the realms wherein the daedric princes themselves are said to dwell. Only this one, I believe, has been created by several very skilled Thalmor mages.”

“Have _you_ ever cast a spell like this?” I asked.

“I have not. Now _do_ not look at me like that, my boy, that is precisely why I told you it would be dangerous. That is to say, I know _in theory_ what must be done, but whether I will be capable of seeing it through…!

“Nelacar,” I said. “Just tell me.”

He sighed. Heavily.

“I must send you, or rather, some _part_ of you, to this so-called pocket realm. Once there, you must find your king and—well, you must bring him back with you.”

I waited for further explanation, but when none was forthcoming—

“That’s it?” I asked. “Find him and bring him back?”

“That is all I know to tell you,” he said. “I do not know what the realm shall look like; I do not even know what your _king_ shall look like—will he be himself, or some bizarre projection of himself, or perhaps his own idealized version? Will he come willingly, or shall you have to convince him—or even chase him down, force him, fight him for all I know! And if you should be unsuccessful—know that while I can, I believe, send you there, I do not believe I alone can bring you back.”

“So how _do_ I come back?” I asked. “And what happens if I don’t?”

“I’m afraid the answer to the second question is simple enough: you will die. As to how you are to return…” He hesitated. “In principle, you should be able to return on your own. Whenever you should desire to do so, in fact. But for one such as yourself, who has _no_ experience whatsoever with astral projection of any sort…!”

I blinked and gazed down at my hands in my lap, at my crossed legs, and the dirt of the cave floor. To think that this could indeed be my last moments alive, here, on Tamriel—I don’t know why or how, but a sort of peace came over me. I realized in that moment that I wasn’t afraid. Oh, my heart was beating fast, and I had to swallow once or twice, but—I was going to do this. I wasn’t quite sure how, but I was.

I was going to find my husband. I was going to save him.

And besides, Nelacar wasn’t quite correct in saying I had ‘no experience’ with astral projection. I had traveled _twice_ now to a realm outside of Tamriel. The first time had been Azura’s star; the second, the supposed realm of Hermaeus Mora. Both had been very different experiences. But I had done it. And I had survived.

I looked up at Nelacar and nodded.

“I’m ready,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

He looked at me, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he pressed his lips together. I really do think he was anxious for my safety, and perhaps weighing whether he truly ought to go through with this or not. For if I died, the guilt would no doubt be placed squarely on his shoulders.

But perhaps my apparent resolve strengthened his own. He finally twitched a little smile at me, and returned my nod.

“Very well,” he said. “Take his hands in yours, and close your eyes.”

I did so, pulling the king’s larger hands over so that they rested in my lap, my own fingers curling around his own. I took a long, deep breath, and let my eyes slide closed.

“You will feel very warm,” said Nelacar, his voice lowering and lengthening, becoming almost soothing. “Do not feel alarmed.”

The warmth seemed to spread through me slowly, starting in my core before stretching outward until it suffused my entire body. I felt something inside me _shift_ —then I was drifting forward, ever so slightly. Only it wasn’t _me_. I looked back somehow and saw myself sitting there, eyes closed, face placid. Then I turned to look at the king. His face came ever closer to my own, and before I knew it, I was part of him—with him, _inside_ him, inside— _wherever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	18. Chapter 18

I was in the Palace of the Kings.

The halls seemed darker than I remembered, the stone a solid black that seemed incapable of reflecting the lit candles that adorned the walls—candles which I knew did not belong, for I knew these halls to be lit by oil lamps and braziers, not candles. There were no rugs beneath my feet, either, and though I recognized one of the large hanging tapestries nearby, I had certainly never seen the one that hung near it before.

I reached out to brush my fingertips against the black stone. It was cool to the touch. Yet the air around me was warm, not chilled, as it so often was. And silent, too—no murmuring voices, no wind buffeting the outer walls, no guards yawning loudly at their posts.

_Find him._ _Find him, and bring him back with you_.

Nelacar’s voice echoed dully somewhere, half inside my head, half in the air, bouncing off the walls like a distant memory. I took a slow, deep breath, and began to walk forward.

A woman’s weeping voice suddenly penetrated the surrounding darkness.

Then, little footsteps—quick and short—rushing away me.

“Wait!” I called out, but no one answered.

I decided to follow. Just ahead of me, I heard a door open, and when I came to it, I recognized it: the door to the second floor library.

I slipped inside, my own footsteps now muffled by the rugs underfoot. I could still hear the woman crying, but it was softer now, more real. A small shape brushed past the corner of my vision; I turned, but it had already slipped into the next room over. After a moment, I followed, for that was where the woman’s voice was coming from.

The woman was on the floor, leaning against one of the plush, velvety chairs, sitting on her heels with her face cradled in one hand. Her body shook faintly with each sob, her long, brown hair hanging down her tall frame partially shading her face. She was dressed very elegantly, though rather out of fashion—I had never seen any of my friends or family wear such a dress: pale and fitted, a sort of wool scarf draped over her shoulders.

“Mama…?”

I saw the child the second I heard his voice. He was the one I had been following, I felt sure of it. He couldn’t have been more than four, though he was tall for his age, his little head covered in shaggy, wheat-blond hair.

The woman looked up. I saw that her right cheek was bruised and swollen; nevertheless, she smiled through her tears. She held her hand out towards the child, silently beckoning him to her. He obliged her, suddenly running towards her, letting her wrap him into her embrace.

“My little love,” she murmured, kissing the top of his head.

He wiggled after a while, and lifted his eyes to meet hers.

After a moment, he reached up, gently touching the bruise on her cheek. Her lips trembled, though her smile remained in place.

“Why does Papa get so mad?” he asked.

“Your father is a very passionate man,” she said, absently stroking her fingers through his unruly hair. “And it isn’t very easy being jarl.”

The boy’s chin and lower lip began to tremble, his blue eyes filling with tears.

“He shouldn’t hit you,” he said, his jaw taking on a stubborn set, even beneath the tears. “He shouldn’t make you cry. It’s wrong!”

“Oh, my little love,” she said, sighing. “Keep those feelings close to you—press them tightly up against your heart. And vow to be different, once you are jarl.”

“I don’t want to be jarl!” came the unhappy response, and he began crying in earnest. She reached up to stroke his hair again, but then her hand seemed to shimmer… soon her entire body became translucent, and then she was gone, leaving the little boy alone. He stood up, shakily, onto his feet and turned to look at me, sniffing, one small hand coming up to wipe at his eyes.

“Hello,” I said, wondering that neither he nor his mother had noticed me until now.

The boy didn’t respond. He looked to his right, as though expecting something, or someone, to appear. The air shimmered again, and there, standing between the lone window in the room and the large reading table piled high with books, was an Altmer man wearing Thalmor robes.

“Run!” I said to the little boy, but he was already running, slipping past me and wedging his small body between the wall and a large trunk.

The bolt of magic came flying towards me before I was even fully aware of it; I brought my ward up on instinct, the spell sizzling and crackling against it. I had learned my lesson in my first fight against the Thalmor; I didn’t hesitate this time as I flung my right hand out, slinging razor-sharp spikes of ice back at my opponent. He quickly blocked them, and shot another spell back at me—and so we continued, the pair of us circling and dodging, spells crackling or bouncing off our wards. A fireball spell missed and hit a nearby shelf, the books and scrolls immediately catching on fire. My opponent glanced to his left, startled, and I shot another right at his face. It hit him—and it, he, and the flames licking at the bookshelf shimmered and disappeared.

I straightened, panting for a moment, before turning to look for the boy. But he was already running again, back through the door and out towards the hallway. Something inside me told me to follow, so I quickly gave chase and hurried after him.

I followed him down the dark hallway, our racing footsteps echoing against the stone walls. I heard the sound of another door opening, though this one was larger, metal hinges grinding heavily against one another. I didn’t pause when I came upon it, hurrying through—but then abruptly stopped, for the halls of the palace were gone.

The stone walls were gray now, the hall well-lit with wide, cheerfully burning braziers. Cut wildflowers adorned the occasional side table, and wooden benches lay here and there pressed against the wall. I could hear the gentle tinkling of water, as from a fountain perhaps, or some indoor pond. The air was quite chilly, but the prettiness of my surroundings almost made it possible for me to ignore it.

I saw a little figure dart around the nearest corner and hurried forward.

A young man was sitting on one of the benches, his head bent over the scrap of unfolded paper in his hands. He had a full beard despite his youth, but his yellow hair had been cut short around his ears. The closer I drew, the more I could garner that the letter’s contents were clearly upsetting—his lips trembled as he read, his fingers gripping the paper too tightly.

“You receive ill news,” said a soft voice, and I looked up to see an older man approaching, his hair and beard as gray as the nondescript robes he had clad himself in.

The young man looked up briefly before lowering his eyes to the letter again.

“Yes,” he managed, his voice gruff.

He breathed in and wiped the back of his hand quickly against his eyes.

After a moment, the old man sat down on the bench beside him. He leaned back, a serene expression on his face, almost smiling as he closed his eyes. They were both quiet for several minutes before the young man finally refolded the letter and stuffed it angrily into the side pocket of his tunic.

“It’s my mother,” he said, getting to his feet. His hands clenched into fists at his side as he began to pace. “Her illness worsens. Galmar says she will soon—

He stopped, a horrified look coming briefly to his face. He pressed his fist over his mouth, his eyes closing briefly. He seemed to take a deep breath before then lowering his hand again and looking at his companion.

“I must leave,” he said. “I must go to her before—before it is over.”

The old man regarded him mildly for a moment, then: “And if you do, do you believe you shall return to us?”

The young man shook his head, clearly agitated.

“I do not know. Galmar says that war is brewing, too. Father will surely join the other jarls and march against the Thalmor. It is our duty as subjects of the Empire, and we owe a duty to our own people, as well.”

The old man arched an eyebrow.

“‘We’?”

“Yes, _we_ , Master Arngeir!” came the angry reply. “Do you forget who I am? Before anything, I am a Nord; I am a son of Skyrim! I am the son of the jarl of Eastmarch; I am the _future_ jarl of my people. And it is _my_ duty to—

“And what of your duty to yourself?”

The young man fell silent, his jaw working visibly beneath his beard. After a second, he lowered his eyes, another deep breath filling and leaving his lungs.

“Even were I to leave now, she would be gone before I made it home,” he finally said. His voice was now quiet again, ragged around the edges. His chin trembled, and he closed his eyes, allowing a single tear to slip down his cheek.

“I cannot tell you what you must do,” said the old man, eventually rising to his feet. “But know that the path you have chosen is as much a part of you as anything else you claim to hold close to your heart. We could have called out to anyone, but we did not.” He stood before the young man now, their eyes meeting. “We called to _you_ , Ulfric, son of Sigird and Hoag. And we do not make mistakes.”

He turned then and began to walk back down the path he had come. The young man bowed his head, his eyes closing once more. Then, just as the woman had earlier, his body began to shimmer before he then faded from view. I looked passed him, but the old man was gone as well.

I heard sniffling off to my left: there, again, was the little boy, crouched behind a large urn, his knees pulled up to his chest.

“Please,” I began, “Tell me where—

He looked up suddenly, his eyes meeting mine. Then he looked past me, his expression paling.

I whirled around, and was little surprised to see another Thalmor, this one a woman. Just as her predecessor before her, she said nothing, only instead of wielding magic, she pulled a sword and dagger free from their sheaths. I knew better than to wait for her to strike first, and flung my hand out, bringing forth a massive fireball—

—Only nothing happened. The woman rushed towards me while I was still shaken from my apparent loss of magic; on instinct, I pulled my own dagger and short sword free and quickly blocked her first swing. She swept at me with her dagger, and I jumped back, my heart pounding in my chest. She gave me little time to regroup. Again, she came at me, and again, and again, and each time I managed to dodge or fend her off. She was faster than any opponent I had ever faced—Ysme, or Una, or any of my friends who were far more agile and skilled than I never exerted themselves fully when meeting me in the ring. I knew that I couldn’t simply defend; I needed to attack, to press what advantage I had—my size, I thought, for she was much taller than me, and the next time she swung at me, I simply ducked, and instead of dodging, I moved closer, blocking her dagger with my sword and plunging my own dagger into her side.

She went still. Then, just as her predecessor did, she began to shimmer, and finally disappeared completely, leaving me holding a bloodless dagger in my left hand.

I quickly sheathed my weapons, and turned to look for the little boy—but he was already racing off. I tilted my head back briefly and groaned before hurrying to chase after him, for I was certain he was the key to whatever was happening—the key to finding my husband and bringing whatever part of him was trapped here back to himself.

The walls shifted again, gray giving way to black, the rugs underfoot becoming heavier, thicker, and newer. The hall was dark but well-lit, and though I passed no one, I suddenly realized I knew where I was: home… the Palace of the Kings, only it was the palace I knew and loved, warm and alive and _safe_.

I rounded a corner and saw the boy again, standing before the closed door leading to the jarl’s apartment. I slowed down, pausing to catch my breath, leaning one hand against the wall as I panted. The boy met my eyes before quickly opening the door and slipping inside. I sighed and straightened, then hurried after him.

“You must give yourself leave to hope for the best.”

The soft, familiar voice was coming from the bedroom. The boy was nowhere to be seen again, but I swallowed and made my way forward, hesitantly pushing the door all the way open and slipping inside.

There was Lia, sitting on one side of the bed, her hands folded calmly in her lap, though one thumb was subconsciously rubbing against the other. She seemed younger than I remembered… less gray threading through her dark, tightly pulled back hair. She gazed anxiously at the person sitting opposite her on the other side of the bed, but he only had eyes for the bed’s occupant. He gazed down at the restlessly unconscious form, one small, gray hand held within his own.

“Ulfric…”

He blinked and looked up, their eyes finally meeting.

“His fate is in the hands of the Nine now. There is nothing more that you can do. You must return—

“Why would they do this?” he asked. “Why would they give him to me, only to take him away?”

Lia seemed taken aback by this abrupt line of questioning, her mouth opening slightly before closing again. She pressed her lips together.

“He is not gone yet,” she said, perhaps not sounding as firm as she usually managed. “And it does the both of you little good to sit here at his side and neglect your duties.”

“My duties are nothing to me,” he said roughly. “What do I care for merchants and petty disputes? Why should I concern myself with the complaints of a soulless people when my own heart lies dying before me?”

Again, Lia could seem to think of nothing to say to this. These were not the words of a jarl—let alone a future High King.

“I cannot lose him,” he continued, his voice low again. “I cannot do this without him. I cannot…”

He trailed off, his voice seeming to leave him unexpectedly. He lifted the hand in his and brought it to his lips, his eyes closing. Across from him, Lia finally sighed quietly and stood, her hands unfolding to absently straighten her skirts. She cast the jarl one last look before turning and walking away.

I was little surprised this time when all three figures began to shimmer before eventually disappearing. The boy was standing behind me now, huddled against the doorway, his fists pressed to his chest. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes when they met mine were so sad.

“But I didn’t die,” I said, not sure why I was even bothering to address him since he had yet to respond to anything I said. “I pulled through. His mother died, but I _didn’t_ , so why is he still thinking about this?”

“You are his greatest weakness.”

I whirled around and stared at the Thalmor woman who now stood near the foot of the bed. Her mouth curved into a smirk, her arms folding over her chest.

“…What?” I said, confused, for thus far no one had even acknowledged my presence here—wherever _here_ even was—let alone spoke to me.

“You,” she repeated, walking slowly towards me, “are his greatest weakness.”

I shook my head, taking a step back. Her words shouldn’t have hurt me as much as they did, and yet—

“No,” I said, suddenly bewildered. “That’s not how he thinks of me. I know some of the others see me like that, but they’re wrong.”

“They protect you because without you, their king is lost,” she said, still smiling. “Without you, their entire country falls into ruin. Even now, they blame _you_ , for they hung their hopes on his foolish devotion to you. And yet you failed.”

“That isn’t my fault,” I insisted. “ _You_ did this to him!”

“We only stoked what was already there. He was so easy to break, once he thought he had lost you.”

I blinked at her in shock.

“…He thinks I’m gone? That I’m dead?”

“Of course he does. It was astonishingly easy to convince him of it. He was all too willing to believe that he’d finally lost you. Not that even we were fully aware of how strong a hold you had on his mental stability. We found that the more we killed you, the less his hold on reality became.”

I wanted so much to give in to the despair that was trying to envelop me. I wanted to sink to my knees and bury my head in my hands. My husband thought me dead, and _this_ was why he could never be recovered.

I really _was_ his greatest weakness.

Except that was bullshit. And I well knew it.

“You’re a _liar_ ,” I said suddenly, lifting my eyes to meet hers again. “Loving me doesn’t make him weak—because love _isn’t_ weakness. Love is _purpose_. It gives you strength; it makes you wake up in the morning with the belief that there’s some good in the world, and that you actually have something to offer it.” I walked towards her, my hands balling into fists. “And he doesn’t only have me. He has Lia and Galmar. He has Ania and Una, and Hellina and Hasan, and Asgar and Inge and Nella. We ALL love him, and he knows that. We make him strong, just as he makes us strong. Yes, if we lose the ones we love, we may crumble, because love is support; love keeps us standing and fighting. That doesn’t mean we’re weak; it just means we’re stronger than we ever could have imagined!”

I had come so close to her that I had to tilt my head up to meet her eyes. She seemed to suck in a breath, a sour look coming to her face. Then, just as the first two had done, she began to shimmer before quickly disappearing.

I sighed, sagging slightly, before turning around to find the little boy. I was little surprised to no longer see him, though I could hear his footsteps echoing in the outer rooms before the apartment door slammed shut. I sighed again and gave chase.

Suddenly, the halls of the palace were full of life. I found myself dodging dignitaries and merchants, guards and servants alike as I hurried down the hall and down the stairs, racing to keep up with the little boy whom no one seemed to notice. He led me down through the great hall, past the long table, and out through the large, iron doors. Yet when I emerged, blinking in the bright, late, spring sunshine, I wasn’t on the outer steps of the palace.

I was on a ship.

The sounds of raucously calling seagulls filled my eyes suddenly, wind pushing back my hair. I whirled around, and stared at the two figures on the stern of the ship. They were as familiar to me as two people could possibly be, one even more so than the other. After a moment, I walked slowly towards them, already guessing at what I was witnessing.

“We waited as long as we could,” said Galmar.

They were both gazing back at the swiftly departing shoreline, the city and its denizens growing smaller with each passing second. The king had his hands resting on the railing, a faraway look in his blue eyes. His face was seemingly expressionless, but I knew—I knew that he was deeply unhappy, a sadness tinged with fear lurking within his eyes.

“And suppose this is folly,” came the quiet reply. “And I never see him again.”

“Then you never see him again,” said Galmar, pragmatic as always. “Least not until his own end comes. Then I get to spend the rest of eternity in Sovngarde watching you two flirt like the pair of hopeless idiots you are.”

The king’s mouth twitched at the corner, ever so slightly.

“Sovngarde,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rush of wind and waves. “You and I, perhaps, old friend. But though I would vouch without question for the strength of his heart and character, he is no warrior, nor is he a Nord. It may be that our time together on this mortal plane is all we have been given.”

Galmar huffed.

“Bullshit,” he said. “I’d like to see even the fucking gods keep you two apart.”

But this answer, meant in the spirit of friendship and humor, did not have the intended effect. The king’s face remained noticeably passive, his eyes still haunted. After a moment, Galmar shook his head before turning and heading back towards the ship’s cabin.

“You worry about that?” I asked softly, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “What will happen after we both die?”

He didn’t look at me, of course, only lowered his head after a moment, his fingers briefly squeezing the wood of the railing. Then he, and everyone else on board the ship, disappeared.

In a strangely haunting way, it made sense. He was a man who had suffered such great loss in his life, presumably to the point where fear of loss began to hold a place of prominence within his heart. It wasn’t so much that this fear was all consuming—I knew that he loved me, for instance, but this love was natural and good; it was not obsessive. It was not a sickness. We had spent an entire year apart, after all, and survived it easily enough.

But this was what the Thalmor had captured. This was what they had gathered and cut away from the rest of him, hidden away in this _pocket dimension_ , as Nelacar called it. This great, cruel fear of loss.

I turned, and there was the little boy gazing up at me.

Once again, a Thalmor appeared, this time behind him—but I ignored her.

Instead, I knelt down, and, after hesitating a moment, reached out to rest my hands on the boy’s thin shoulders.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” I said, smiling. I could see the resemblance in his young face now—the same eyes, nose, and mouth I knew so well, so much smaller and brighter. The same tangled yellow hair, the same quiet intelligence lurking within those blue eyes.

“I love you,” I continued. “I’ll always love you. And you aren’t going to lose me. I promise.”

I pulled him gently closer, but he was already rushing forward, wrapping his thin arms around me. I held him close, feeling tears spring into the corners of my eyes. _I’ll never let you go_ , I thought. _I’ll love you forever, and I’ll never let you go._

“…Casien?”

I opened my eyes.

I was back in the cave, my eyes struggling to penetrate the low lighting, though they adapted again quickly enough. I blinked—and gazed back into the wide, astonished blue eyes of my husband.

“Yes,” I said, the word leaving me all in one breath. “Yes, I’m—

A rush of joy overcame me all at once, and before I could stop myself, I had crawled forward and thrown myself into his arms. I hugged him tightly, burying my face into his neck and shoulder, feeling his bearded cheek pressing against the side of my head. His arms around me were hesitant at first, but then his embrace became as tight as my own. I really thought I could feel his heart beating in his chest, feel the breath moving in and out of his lungs—and maybe I could, after what we had just shared.

“Is this real?” he murmured, but I heard no fear or anger in his voice, only a sort of weary joy, such that my own heart shuddered inside me, and soon I was crying, sobbing with happiness against him. Finally, I lifted my head enough so that our eyes could meet, and lay the palm of my hand against his cheek. He did the same, cupping my face with his palm, then I leaned forward again and kissed him, again, and again, before hugging him yet again.

But the blessed relief and happiness of our long-awaited reunion wasn’t to last forever.

“Casien!”

Hasan’s anxious voice pulled me from my heady joy. I sat back, my husband’s arms still around me, glancing at an exhausted, albeit slightly amused, looking Nelacar before looking over my shoulder at Hasan crouched down in the small cave’s entrance.

“We… my lord!” he cried, for he no doubt could see that the king had returned to us. But he shook his head, his own relief giving way quickly to duty. He bowed his head quickly and pressed his fist to his chest, probably more out of habit than anything.

His eyes met mine again.

“The Thalmor are here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for this chapter came partially from the hauntingly beautiful "[Happiness Does Not Wait.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BdfH0CAKK4)"
> 
> Story Discord: [LINK.](https://discord.gg/6WmJcSF)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, darling readers! I haven't heard from a lot of you in a while, and comments have really dried up! I hope everyone is still enjoying the story 😭 I know commenting can be hard, but if you could at least let me know you're still reading, I'd be really, really grateful, and it would relieve a ton of anxiety! 😄❤

“What? Here!” I said, getting shakily to my feet after a second—the spell had apparently taken quite a bit out of me. “How many?”

“Unknown for sure,” said Hasan. “But I trust Rin’s initial estimates. No less than twenty, he says. And he reports that they’re minutes away from closing in on our location.”

My husband sighed and rubbed his forehead. He looked—and sounded—utterly exhausted, and I recollected that on top of suffering the effects of the spell, he had been refusing all food and water—and had not exactly been the picture of perfect health before that.

“Thalmor,” he murmured, as though trying to wrap his head around the situation. His eyes met Hasan’s then. “Who is with us.”

“General Galmar is here, my lord,” said Hasan. “Along with Ania. And… the prince of Farrun.”

The king looked momentarily lost as he took in this information; it wasn’t the mention of Rin that phased him, I don’t think. It was more likely the realization that everything he had experienced these past few days—had been real.

All of a sudden, he looked up at me, his eyes widening. When they fell to my neck, my heart sank, for I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Don’t think about that right now,” I said. “We have to take care of the Thalmor.”

After a second, he nodded, and moved to stand—but fell back against the back of the cave with an exhausted grunt.

“Help me,” he said to me, but I shook my head. It was clear to me that he was in no condition to fight.

“Hasan,” he said, making the other young man’s name a command, and Hasan actually paused before glancing at me.

“You hesitate to obey your jarl’s command,” came the tart response, but I cut in before poor Hasan was forced to defend himself.

“He hesitates before you’re unwell,” I said. “And he’s right.”

The warning look he gave me should have made me cringe. Yet I had missed him so dearly, that all it did was make me want to sink back into his arms and hug him as tightly as I could. I knew I could happily endure a lifetime of scolding from my longsuffering husband if it meant finally having him back with me.

But now wasn’t the time to lose myself to such thoughts.

“You can’t even stand,” I reasoned, crouching back down beside him, both my hands resting on his arm. “We _can’t_ lose you, not after everything we’ve done to find you and bring you back to us. And if you try to fight right now, that’s exactly what might happen!”

“Instead you would have me leave Galmar, Ania, and Hasan to face twenty Thalmor by themselves.”

“Don’t forget Rin,” I said, smiling a little. “He could probably take out half of them before they even know he’s there. _And_ they’ll have my magic.”

“I have no prevue over Prince Rininion. But you cannot imagine that I shall allow _you_ to put yourself in danger while I linger here like some crippled old man.”

“A compromise,” said Nelacar, startling us both. “I have some small skill in healing. I shall tend to the jarl as best I can; in the meantime, Lord Casien, you may go and assist your friends—goodness, will you kindly ask your husband to stop glaring at me?”

“Who is this man,” rumbled the king.

“His name is Nelacar, and he just saved your life,” I said. “Please stop glaring at him. And that’s a good plan, but—you look a little exhausted, to be honest. _Can_ you heal him?”

“I shall try, at least,” said Nelacar, his voice a bit rueful. “But yes, I fear it will take quite a bit out of me. Nevertheless, I am otherwise useless to you all, for I dare not show my face to the Thalmor.”

“If he can get the jarl back on his feet and able to wield a blade,” said Hasan, “able to Shout, even…”

Ulfric gave him a sharp look but said nothing. I knew that he did not like to use his Thu’um in battle, and Una even told me that he never once did, not all throughout the march to Solitude. _I think the Greybeards are unhappy with him_ , she’d said. _The Thu’um isn’t meant to be used for war, but everyone knows Uncle used it against Torygg._

“Casien…”

My name on my husband’s lips halted me before I could stand. He put his hand over one of mine, our eyes meeting. He opened his mouth… then closed it again, his jaw working beneath his beard.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, for I could easily guess at what it was he wanted to say, yet for whatever reason couldn’t seem to find the words. “I’ll be with Galmar and the others. You _know_ they won’t let anything happen to me. And…” I felt a little smile twitch at the corners of my lips. “I’ve been training for a whole year now. For all you know, I may have become a great master of destruction magic.”

He didn’t return my smile. Instead, he brought his hand up to my cheek, his thumb stroking tenderly over my skin before he finally sighed, lowering his hand again.

“Watch him,” he said to Hasan, his voice broking no argument.

Hasan nodded then glanced at me before leading the way out of the cave. We passed Eleanor on the way out; our eyes met—she was holding a dagger that someone must have given her, bless them—and I don’t think I’d ever seen her look so frightened.

Galmar was waiting for us just outside the entrance, sword in hand, his daughter beside him, her own sword bared and waiting as well.

“Well?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine.

I couldn’t help the smile that came to my face. Ania let out a quick _whoop!_ and pulled me into a bone-crushing, one-armed hug. It was enough to turn my smile into a silly grin. Galmar, though, only shook his head and huffed under his breath before facing the woods again.

“Let’s hope it’s not all for nothing,” he muttered.

The sound of a dove trilling made him start, his head jerking off towards the direction of the call.

“That’ll be the prince,” said Hasan.

Galmar nodded grimly.

“They’re here.”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before the first spell came hurtling towards us. It was a lightning spell—I stepped in front of Galmar without thinking and brought my hand up, the spell crackling angrily against my ward.

The others had shifted into defensive positions, their expressions wary and waiting. I, too, expected another attack to come—but it didn’t.

“What now, General?” asked Hasan.

“We wait,” said Galmar. “Stay alert. Casien’s our shield, but keep your defenses up.”

Before I could look at him in shock over hearing my name connected in _any_ way with combat preparations, a woman suddenly stepped out from the trees and began to approach us. The others all tensed again, but she held her hands up and was also clearly unarmed. Of course, that meant nothing if she were a mage—which she likely was.

“No one has to die today,” she said, smiling. The words left her mouth like a snake, coiling in the air between us before licking at our ears.

“Beg to differ,” said Ania.

The woman glanced at her before shifting her gaze towards me. Her smile widened.

“So here you are, in the flesh. I’ve seen you so vividly in your king’s head, yet it still astonishes me to see you before me. And just as talented as our reports indicated, too.”

“If you’ve a point to make,” said Galmar, “get to it.”

“He values your life above all else,” she continued, ignoring him and still gazing at me. “Losing you was what finally broke him. Did you know that?”

I said nothing, though I squeezed my hands into fists—to keep them from shaking, or to keep my temper, I couldn’t be sure.

“I repeat: no one has to die today, including yourself. You don’t want to do that to him, do you? Force him to lose you all over again?”

I couldn’t help it; I bit down on my bottom lip—after what I had just been through, rescuing my husband, seeing his memories, knowing now this great fear of loss he harbored, deep in his heart—it inevitably tugged at my own.

And she knew it, too.

“Return him to us,” she said. “You must see how hopeless things have become. He was nearly ours before you took him from us. Dying now will accomplish nothing—except, perhaps, break the last bit of sanity he—

Her words were abruptly cut short when a dagger suddenly imbedded itself into her forehead. Her mouth fell open; a trickle of blood ran down between her eyes and over her nose—and down she fell.

“What?” said Ania, when we all turned to look at her. “She talked too fucking much.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, unable to help staring back at the dagger protruding from the dead woman’s head. I rested my hand queasily over my stomach, even as I felt Hasan’s hand come to rest briefly, comfortingly on my shoulder.

“No time for that,” said Galmar. “Everyone, on your guard!”

The last few words came out all in a rush, as Thalmor were suddenly coming towards us, blades drawn. The others raised their own swords, and I brought up another ward, then another, as spells began flying towards us. Yet even without shields, Galmar, Ania, and Hasan were trained to fight mages. They dodged spells—I even saw Ania block one with the flat of her blade—before immediately rushing the spell caster, forcing them into close combat. The terrain didn’t help either side; the dense foliage provided cover, but it also made it impossible to see one’s opponent until they were on top you.

Hasan kept his word to his king. He stayed by my side, and I acted as his shield, throwing up wards to block every spell that came our way. Protecting me hindered his ability to take out as many opponents as his father- and sister-in-law, but I was hardly incapable of doing damage myself. I ended more than one Thalmor life that day, blasting one man in the face with a fireball and sending ice spikes into the side of another.

And then there was the prince. I never saw him, but I saw several dead Thalmor lying on the forest floor with arrows protruding from their chests, throats, or faces. It was a gruesome sight, though not half as gruesome as what the others were doing with their swords.

Yet we were hopelessly outnumbered. I wasn’t fast enough with my ward, and a lightning spell grazed Hasan’s shoulder. I heard Ania cry out as well, and looked desperately around to see if I could see her—but then yet another Thalmor was before me. I was so startled, I fumbled with my weapons as he charged me—though he came to an abrupt, skidding halt, an arrow flying from somewhere within the treetops and imbedding itself in his skull.

And then a low roar, ripping through the forest, deafening me briefly and causing me to fall to one knee.

My sword and dagger seemed to jolt themselves from my hands, as if acting on their own free will, and tumble down towards the ground. I stared at them in shock—then was jolted from my own stupor by Hasan grabbing me by one arm, hauling me back to my feet, and pulling me back towards the cave entrance.

And there was my husband.

He stood just outside the cave’s entrance, facing the sounds of battle. Even despite his haggard face and figure, he remained a stalwart figure, his broad shoulders squared for battle. His eyes met mine as we approached, then he held out his hand to Hasan. Hasan handed him his sword without question.

“Take him inside,” said my husband.

“But—!”

Hasan didn’t give me a chance to protest; he pulled me back inside the cave with him, then bid me to sit down beside Eleanor. Afterward, he pulled a dagger from his belt and went to stand by the cave entrance, waiting and watching.

“What’s going on?” asked Eleanor, moving closer to me and grabbing my arm. “Your king looks himself again, but—he looked—and the battle! The Thalmor! I could hear everything, but—

“I don’t know,” I said. “Rin’s alive; he saved me just a moment ago. I heard Ania, but I don’t—and Galmar.” I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“The general’s alive,” said Hasan, without glancing back over his shoulder.

“Was that a Shout?” asked Eleanor. “I’ve never… I’ve never heard one before.”

“Yes,” I said, placing my hand over hers, trying my best to comfort her.

“You see that your plans have been foiled!”

My husband’s voice rang out from without the cave.

“You see that I am my own man again, that what you sought to take from me has been regained. If you wish to throw your lives away—then by all means.”

The challenge must have been accepted. Thalmor apparently don’t cry out in battle the way Nords do, but I heard the renewed clash of steal, of shouting, and cries of agony. Then—another _Shout_ , this one more like the one he had uttered in the cave leading from the Thalmor stronghold. I heard trees cracking and falling with a rush to the ground. More cries of pain and suffering and death. A few more vague sounds of lingering combat—then another Shout, followed by more crumbling, decimated trees.

Then, finally, nothing.

Galmar’s voice, panting and rough: “I think that’s all of them.”

“If there are any left, they’ve turned tail and run.”

My husband’s voice preceded him into the cave. He handed the sword back down to Hasan before crouching down before me, glancing briefly at Eleanor before grasping me gently by the shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes running up and down my form before meeting my eyes again.

I shook my head.

He pressed his lips together, his hands squeezing briefly before he released me.

“They’ll have horses,” he said over his shoulder. “Find them.”

“The prince and Ania are already on it,” said Galmar.

“What about Nelacar?” I asked. “Is he all right?”

“Your friend has fallen into a faint, no doubt as a result of healing me to the best of his abilities. But I do not think he is in any danger.”

“Not from us, at least,” said Galmar.

He paused to search through one of the packs before pulling out a bit of twine, which he tested first by pulling it between two fists before rising to his feet again.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Don’t hurt him,” said Eleanor, surprising me—for she was no fan of Nelacar and never had been. “Please!”

“I’ll not hurt him, girl. But when his people…” He huffed under his breath. “…his _ex_ -people find him, they need to think we’ve subdued him and forced him to help us. When he wakes up, and they find him, his hands and feet will be bound, nothing more.”

Everything happened rather swiftly after that. Eleanor and I were instructed to put out the fires and pack up all the supplies, so we did. Once he finished tying poor Nelacar up, Galmar reemerged and did a quick and dirty job of patching up Hasan’s shoulder—it would probably need stitches, but there wasn’t time, not with Melaran and _his_ group no doubt now hot on our trail. When we emerged, my husband confirmed that none of the bodies belonged to Melaran, so we felt reasonably sure that this group was the one which had been following us since we had left Farrun.

The area outside the cave was a vista of unmitigated destruction. I tried not to look at any of the bodies, and I knew Eleanor was doing the same. Ania and Rin returned with horses; the animals looked frightened and nervous, no doubt spooked by the smell of blood, not to mention the king’s Shouts. Upon learning of our mad dash to and from Jehanna, and the fact that we had barely slept or eaten in some three days, he ordered myself, Eleanor, and Rin not to ride alone; the horses could bear the extra burden for a little while, and we would tie the spare animals to the saddles of the others.

I protested at first, but, in truth, he wasn’t wrong. I think we had all been running on adrenaline, and when I looked into Eleanor’s and Rin’s admittedly tired eyes, I realized I felt little different. Eleanor rode behind Hasan and Rin behind Ania. I, of course, was helped onto one of the horses before my husband mounted behind me, one arm taking the reins, the other resting around my waist, holding me securely to him.

“That Master Arngeir of yours would lose his fucking beard if he saw this,” said Galmar, glancing around the devastated clearing after mounting his own horse.

“He can write me a stern letter,” said the king, heeling his horse forward. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat short chapter, but packed with action! Will our heroes make it to Nzudelft before Melaran and his fellow Thalmor catch up with them?!
> 
> ALSO: In case you missed it, I uploaded a one-shot to the series! You can find it after Book 1 and before Book 2. It takes place approximately one week after Casien returns home from Winterhold after the war. Check it out if you want to feel those old timey fluffy feels!


	20. Chapter 20

The initial journey away from the carnage surrounding the small cave and towards the Druadach Mountains was mostly silent. Galmar led the way, and, presumably with his jarl’s permission, encouraged the others to push the horses as much as possible. I could see the wisdom in this, for we had no way of knowing how far off Melaran and his people were. If we were lucky, many hours indeed may have passed before they learned of Nelacar leaving the city. But no matter how great the distance between our two groups, it seemed unlikely that they had not heard the king’s Shouts.

It was a constant battle to keep my weariness from overpowering me, and, after sometime, it obviously became clear to my husband, as well.

“Sleep,” he murmured into my ear. “I have you. You are not in danger.”

Something about his words sent a sudden wave of panic through me—the residual effects of everything we’d been through, as if my fear of losing him wasn’t quite ready to be cast aside. I must have stiffened in his arms, for he seemed to notice.

“All right…?” he asked softly.

I nodded and swallowed, needing a moment to collect myself.

“I’m just happy,” I finally managed. “Happy that you’re here, with me—as you are.”

I could have said more, but didn’t. I’m not sure I would have been able to keep my emotions in check if I had. But there was something viscerally real about having my back pressed against his chest, one arm curled securely around my waist, his warm, familiar voice murmuring into my ear.

My husband did not respond, though he bent his head a little, pressing his cheek against mine before gently kissing the side of my face.

I fell asleep—for how long, I’m not certain, but it was still dark when I realized the horse had stopped moving. Ulfric dismounted first, then beckoned me to do the same. He caught me, yet I noticed he stumbled slightly, his hands on my arms gripping me briefly as though to steady himself.

“The effects of the healing spell have probably faded,” I said. “You should rest.”

“I believe that is the plan,” he said a bit dryly, though he smiled to take the sting out of his words.

Rin, bless him, offered to go hunting, so we built a small fire behind a large rock outcropping, in hopes that it would not be visible to our pursuers. Galmar calculated that it was unlikely Melaran and his people could have arrived in Jehanna, only to immediately begin tracking us, trailing us from the city to the caves, then onward to our present location—without stopping to rest at least once. And as the moons were still fairly new, and heavy clouds covered the night sky, following us in the dark would be nearly impossible.

“Unless they have some magical means of doing so,” Eleanor pointed out.

“Like Nirya’s location spell?” I asked.

“Not _that_ spell exactly, but something else—perhaps.”

“They’ll still need to sleep at some point,” said Galmar, “And frankly, so do we. If they attack us—

“If they attack us, then we shall meet them in battle,” the king cut in. “But pray to the Nine that that shall not happen.”

“Very chipper, that husband of yours,” muttered Eleanor, as she and I lay out the bedrolls around the little fire.

“He’s a Nord,” I said, “They can’t help being dramatic.” I gave her a little playful nudge. “You should know.”

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the little smile on her face before she turned away.

Rin and Ania, who had gone to fill the water skins, returned at the same time. Galmar used the water to brew some of the last of our coffee, for he would be taking first watch. I watched with some distaste as Rin began to skin the animals he’d caught—I didn’t recognize them; they looked like skeevers, only they were slightly bigger, and—

“Uggh,” I muttered, turning to briefly hide my disgusted face in my husband’s shoulder.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I heard Eleanor say.

“Mara’s tits,” said Ania. “Do those things have more innards than most other animals?”

“They actually have two stomachs,” the prince said, cheerfully cutting open what was apparently one of those stomachs and showing us the contents—if the intent was to make Eleanor and I both groan and turn more than slightly green around the gills, it was a success. “They also have several vestigial organs. I can’t promise they’ll taste like venison, so apologies in advance.”

We had no field medic and no healing magic, so while the meat cooked, the soldiers among us did their best to look after one another. I was lucky not to have been injured, though I knew I had Hasan to thank for that. I watched in sympathy as Ania worked to disinfect and stitch up the wound on his shoulder.

When it finally came time to eat, I couldn’t resist watching my husband as he consumed his dinner like a starving man—for that was exactly what he was.

“Try to slow down,” I finally urged, laying a hand on his arm. “You haven’t eaten for days. Your stomach will get sick.”

Some of the others must have caught the look he gave me, for I heard both Ania and Eleanor snorting and laughing softly.

“My stomach is fine,” he said, bristling, no doubt, at their reaction. He gazed at me for a moment longer, then sighed. “You know I do _not_ like it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I asked, surprised.

“You know what. Your eyes grow two sizes in your head.”

I sat back, startled. “What?”

Now both Rin and Hasan joined the girls in laughing, and we _both_ shot them all dirty looks.

“You two are adorable,” said the prince, beaming at us from across the fire.

“That’s one way of putting it,” muttered Galmar.

“Better to see them making cow eyes at each other again,” said Ania, “than to have to watch Uncle brood all day and night for an entire year just because Casien’s gone.”

“Ania,” Hasan chastised, but he couldn’t seem to keep the amused smile from his face.

“Did you really miss me that much?” I asked, smiling at my husband.

“I did,” he said. “As you no doubt could well ascertain from the tone of my letters. However,” he shot his niece a sharp look. “I did not _brood_.”

“There was a _little_ brooding,” said Hasan, and the look his jarl gave him was one of such betrayal that we all couldn’t help laughing.

“Did Casien mope as much as Uncle?” asked Ania, aiming her question to Eleanor, who I knew could at least be relied upon to speak truthfully.

She shrugged. “Not really. We could tell he was sad, but he tends to throw himself into his studies. But goodness, every time he received a letter!” She clapped her hands together, making one hand zoom off ahead of the other. “Off to his room he went.”

“Aw,” said Hasan, grinning at me.

“Imagine me wanting to read my letters in peace,” I said, rolling my eyes, “instead of having you lot staring at me the whole time.”

“Uncle would never tell us what was in your letters,” said Ania. “I’m assuming barf-inducing sap.”

“I told him about my day,” I said, a little offended, which was probably just what she was going for—I was too easy sometimes. “New things I had learned, books I read, spells I perfected. Nothing sappy at all.”

“I concur,” spoke up my husband. “Your letters were very… _technical_.”

There was a chorus of _Ohhh!_ s around the fire—minus Galmar, of course.

“Fine,” I huffed. “So I’m not romantic. Is that a crime?”

“You are very romantic,” said the king, slipping an arm around me and giving me a light squeeze. “In your way.”

“Backhanded compliment,” chortled Ania, but at this point I think Galmar had had enough of our nonsense and suggested—he didn’t issue orders anymore, now that the jarl was truly back with us—that we all crawl into our makeshift beds, for we’d have another long day of riding ahead of us tomorrow.

I felt a strange, giddy anticipation as I readied my own bedroll, for of course my husband had pulled his own up beside mine. We both removed our boots, sword belt, and cloak, and we neither of us had any armor on—this was strange for him, though not so much for me. Though it was true that I often wore a proper gambeson and bracers when traveling, I certainly wasn’t now, and in fact was still wearing the clothes I had borrowed from the prince in Jehanna. And my husband was wearing clothes borrowed from Galmar—we’d tossed aside the trousers and tunic he’d been wearing when captured, for they hadn’t exactly been salvageable, not after so many weeks of captivity.

I thought of that now, of how long he must had sat there in the darkness of his cell, enduring the abuses of the Thalmor, both mental and physical. His musings must have been similarly melancholy, for when I eventually pressed myself close beside him, one hand draped over his chest as was my habit—he lay on his back, as was his—it was a moment before his own arm came to tentatively wrap around me.

I wanted to ask him what was on his mind, but we were both tired, and had little privacy, what with our friends and family all lying so close by. In the end, I sighed quietly and closed my eyes, nuzzling my face against the side of his out of habit, breathing him in—we none of us smelled great, I’m sure, but he smelled like _himself_ , and that would always be a comfort to me—and within seconds, fell asleep.

None of the others ever woke him for his turn at watch, which was a private relief for me, although he laid sharply into Galmar the next morning. But he needed to rest and recover from everything that had happened. I was glad Galmar could see it, though I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. He had spent virtually his entire life attempting to guide his friend without Ulfric ever seeming to really notice.

After breakfast, we discussed losing the horses as we had last time, but it was decided that, since Melaran and his Thalmor likely already knew in which direction we were headed, there was no longer much need for subterfuge. Speed and distance traveled each day became more important, for the sooner we were within the bowels of Nzudelft, the better. Not that I was looking _forward_ to being lost in a dangerous, centuries old ruin, but at least it would afford us some manner of safety and cover from our pursuers.

Nelacar’s books and maps were consulted, mainly by Eleanor and Rin (who knew the area best, though it was rare, he admitted, that he traveled so far east), and soon we were off.

The two of them led the way, followed by myself and my husband. Galmar and his daughter and son-in-law lagged somewhat behind us.

We rode silently, for the most part, though this really was nothing unusual. The king was not a great talker, and generally kept his thoughts to himself—or rather, I believe he simply preferred to listen to me speak rather than be forced to speak himself. But I could scarcely thing of anything to talk about, for I didn’t wish to ask him about his captivity, and even asking about the year we had spent apart was hardly a cheery topic for discussion.

After a while, I noticed he was looking at me.

“What?” I asked, wondering if I perhaps had some bit of breakfast still on my face somewhere (though dirt and mud were more likely).

The smile he offered me was almost pained.

“You will not like it,” he said.

“Just tell me,” I insisted, for I could tell that something was genuinely bothering him.

“I…” He hesitated, then sighed. “I’ve missed your face.”

I blinked, startled.

“My face…?” I reached up to absently touch one suddenly warm cheek.

“You face,” he continued, his smile returning. “Your voice. The sound of you singing to yourself at night when you bathe, the smell of your hair when you step out of the bath. Your fingers curling around my own, your eyes meeting mine in the mirror each morning.”

“You missed the way I complained each time I had to shave?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “Or made the wash room smell, or farted during sex, or—

His laughter cut my silliness short, and Rin and Eleanor even glanced back at us, eyebrows lifted.

“Who is this, and where is my husband?” he asked, once he had gotten his laughter under control.

Yet his thoughtless, unfortunate choice of words seemed to abruptly stop him short, and he went still, his merry expression fading.

“…Ulfric?” I asked after a while, my voice soft.

He pressed his lips together, his hands, probably unconsciously, squeezing the reins.

“My apologies,” he finally managed. “I do not wish to burden you with my…”

But he couldn’t seem to finish. His eyes still had not met my own again, and his jaw beneath his beard was clenched tight.

“You can tell me,” I said. “Ulfric, I’m—that’s why I’m here. You don’t have to bury all of this inside you. You can _talk_ to me.”

He shot me a look which was verging on annoyed. For whatever reason, he rarely shared his greatest fears with me. I didn’t know if this was part of being a Nord, or a king, or something unique to his personality.

But it made me sad that he didn’t feel he could trust me with his feelings.

He was silent for a long time before continuing.

“You must understand. It was _you_ who consumed my thoughts as I neared what I felt to be my darkest hour. I felt certain that I would either die or lose my mind, and upon doing so, I knew that this would mean that I would never lay eyes upon you again. It filled my heart with such despair, that I might never see you, never hear your voice, never touch you…”

This was too much. I could feel my throat closing up, and I lamented the fact that we were both on horseback, and thus I could not reach out to him the way I wanted.

“I’m here now,” I said instead. “Ulfric, they _lost_. You didn’t die, or lose your mind, and—I promise they will _never_ take you from me again.”

He looked at me, his smile so sad.

“It is _I_ who should be making such promises to _you_. How they have ruined me, stripped me of all that I am…”

“Can’t I make the same promise?” I asked, a little frustrated by what he was suggesting. “I may be smaller and weaker than you, and younger, and born on a farm on an island nobody wants anymore. And maybe I once cleaned out your fireplace and made your bed and folded your clothes, but that was then, and this is now. We’re married now, and I have as much right to take care of you as you have to take care of me.”

Rather than anger him, as I had anticipated, my words seemed to ease the tension from his brow. His smile turned softer, more genuine—perhaps a bit teasing.

“You are right, of course,” he allowed. “And I humbly beg my lord husband’s pardon. I did not mean to belittle your importance in our partnership.”

I huffed under my breath, though I suppose I wasn’t truly angry.

“Why do I feel like you’re just humoring me,” I muttered.

His soft laughter was the only answer.

That evening, we spent another relatively comfortable night around the fire. There was laughter, teasing, joyful recollections of the past, and quiet wishes for the future. (I would do well, I reminded myself, to recall that I was not the only one who had now been separated from their partner for some time. And Hasan even had a son, and another child on the way, one who had surely already been born by now—and born healthily, gods willing).

We feasted on rabbit and ptarmigan, along with some wild root vegetables Rin had discovered while hunting—certainly pleasanter repast than the previous evening. This time, when Ulfric insisted that he be included in the night’s watch rotation, Galmar acquiesced, as I’m sure we all knew he would. But it would be a relief for the others, for the more people on watch, the longer everyone else got to sleep—with Eleanor and myself of course getting the entire night, but naturally no one suggested that we shouldn’t.

When I lay down for the night, I felt sated and almost happy. Yet I noticed that my husband seemed—not cold, but at least as lost in thought as he had been the previous evening. We didn’t speak as I folded myself around him, and once again, it was some time before his arm came to wrap around me. I fell asleep feeling troubled, wondering what it was that was eating away at him—and if it was at all related to our conversation that afternoon.

It was still dark when I awoke. I lay there for a moment before blinking slowly, gazing out at the surrounding darkness, and the low embers of the fire. It took me a moment before I realized I was alone, but before panic could set in, I spotted two figures, just beyond the light of the fire.

A changing of the watch, I realized. The large figure moving away from my husband could only be Galmar. But before he could reclaim his own bedroll, he was halted in his steps.

“A word,” said Ulfric.

I knew they didn’t realize I was watching and listening. But even if I closed my eyes again I could hardly force myself to go back to sleep.

After a moment, Galmar turned and faced his king.

“You owe me an explanation,” said my husband.

“Do I?” came the calm reply, though even I could detect the tension in his voice.

“I would think our friendship too old and too deep for you to try to play games with _me_ , Galmar.”

But Galmar did not respond.

“You will explain to me why you are not alone.”

“Spit it out,” said Galmar, shocking me—I almost gasped. “Say exactly what you mean, if you don’t mind.”

“You _know_ what I mean,” snapped my husband, advancing quickly towards his friend. To his credit, Galmar didn’t so much as flinch. “You will explain to me why my niece, my nephew, and my husband are here when they have no business being here. Even the girl—you had _no right_ to endanger her as well!”

“Hang the girl,” said Galmar. “You don’t care about her, or at least not as much as you’re pretending. You don’t care about Ania or Hasan, either. It’s that boy of yours that’s got your britches all in a twist.”

“He _should not_ be here!”

The sharp retort was so loud, I almost feared it would wake the others.

“How _dare_ you defy my wishes and involve him in this. How _dare_ you summon him here, knowingly, into danger, as I know you must have done!”

“You might show him a bit more respect,” said Galmar. “Don’t you think he’d want to be here? Doesn’t he have a right to do everything he can to help the person he loves?”

“If you _ever_ ,” said the king, his voice lowering ominously, “do something like this again, you will live to regret it. I would have your word, _old friend_ , that you will NEVER endanger him again—not for you, not for me, not for anything or anyone!”

There was silence, then: “Do I have your word, Galmar?”

“Aye,” came the resigned response. “If that’s what you truly want, then you have it. As you always have.”

The king made a disgusted noise before turning away from him, sitting down to settle himself before a large tree. After a moment, Galmar finally turned as well and resumed his track back to his own bedroll. He disappeared out of my line of sight, but I had to assume he had lain down and at least tried to go to sleep.

Several long minutes passed before I finally dared to lift my head. Sure enough, everyone else around me was motionless, seemingly asleep. My husband faced away from me, so he didn’t see me. But I must have made a noise as I eventually got to my feet, folding the blanket around me, and made my way towards him.

He looked up at me, and I think we both silently acknowledged that I must have heard their argument. But then, the only thing he said to me, after several quiet seconds passed between us was:

“You should go back to sleep.”

I ignored the suggestion, closing the distance between us instead. He sighed, quietly, and stretched his legs out after a moment, allowing me to settle between them, my back resting against his chest.

The ease with which his arms seemed to wrap around me relieved me, and I even closed my eyes, leaning more fully against him.

“Sorry,” I said, sighing. “I think I’m going to be awfully needy for a little while.”

He didn’t respond, though I felt a brief puff of air against the back of my head.

We sat together in silence for some time. I listened to the animals in the forest, calling to one another, listened to the breeze ahead ruffling the leaves of the trees. I could hear the horses, too, breathing and snorting, and could barely make out their large bodies in the dark. I tried not to think of our pursuers, led by a man who hated me so much he was set on chasing me to the borders of High Rock, lurking somewhere out there in the dark, as well.

“Have I told you I’m glad you’re back?” I asked, more to have something to say than anything.

I felt his chest shake slightly, another puff of air.

“I believe you have, once or twice.”

I smiled and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to fall back asleep, not when we finally had some semblance of privacy together. But if I did, at least it would be in his arms.

“You’ve done well,” he said, surprising me from my semi-slumber.

“I have?” I asked, blinking.

“You chose to come here, knowing how dangerous it would be. That was very brave.”

I frowned.

“It wasn’t,” I insisted. “I was just doing what had to be done. I wasn’t going to let anyone take you, not if I could help it.”

“Mm. Spoken like the bravest man I know.”

“Who’s that?”

He laughed again, this time audibly, the low chuckle resonating in his chest.

“ _You_ , little roebuck. And the others see this in you, and they respect you for it. They have followed you here, willingly.”

“That was Lia’s idea,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I wasn’t really in charge. She was just following protocol. Ania and Hasan have been humoring me, and Galmar! As for Eleanor, she doesn’t care one way or the other; she only wanted to help.”

“Is that so?” He shifted, his arms settling more comfortably around me. “I saw how Hasan looked to _you_ in the cave, even after he realized I was myself again.”

Had his voice not been so gentle, I might have suspected him of jealousy. Instead—I felt myself slowly blushing, for I realized, no—he was _proud_ of me.

“…I’m not a leader,” I finally managed, though I’m not sure why I was so against the idea.

“Being a leader isn’t something one is born into doing. It takes practice as well as heart. Others will follow, but only if they respect you, fear you, or love you.”

“Well, I don’t dispute them loving me, even if it shows they have poor taste.”

“Joke if you must, dear heart, but you have earned their love as well as their respect. They show it by listening to you, by seeking out your opinion.”

“If you insist,” I said, sighing. I had only come here to be with him, not to be praised and set on some pedestal.

There was silence between us again for a little while, then:

“You are brave, too, for trusting me.”

I frowned, taken off guard by this. After a moment, I sat up a little and turned so that our eyes could meet. His held mine for a little longer before lowering—of course—down to my neck.

“…Oh,” I said, and I wanted to say more, but I wasn’t sure how, or what.

He brought a hand up, tentatively touching my throat, his fingertips brushing over the still bruised skin, his eyes still lowered to that spot. His mouth parted, but he said nothing.

“You weren’t yourself,” I said, reaching up to lay my hand over his, my fingers wrapping around his wrist. “I knew that then, and I know it now.”

“That does not excuse my…”

“…Yes, it does,” I insisted.

Finally, he lowered his hand, his eyes closing.

“Ulfric…” I said, unsure how to comfort him.

“Everything you say is true,” he said. “And I know that you are right. Yet still I must look at you, and see the evidence of a horror committed by my own hands.”

“…Is this why you’ve been so reticent at night?” I asked, for everything was beginning to make sense.

He smiled a sad smile.

“If I have been as such, then—yes, I suppose it may be so. I no longer feel as if I have a right to sleep beside you—I, who once assaulted you in the dead of night, wrapped my hands around the throat of the one I loved, and tried to—

I did the only thing I felt I could do. I stopped him mid-sentence by throwing my arms around him and squeezing myself as tightly against him as I could, burying my face in his neck. He was startled, his body stilling briefly before he returned the embrace, one hand slowly sliding up my back to rest gently against my neck. I kissed his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek, our eyes meeting.

“I love you,” I said, cradling his face now between my two hands. “Nothing has changed between us.”

His lips seemed to tremble, and I’m not sure if it was the light from the fire playing tricks on my eyes, but his own eyes seemed to shine briefly. He swallowed, then, finally, nodded.

I did, eventually, end up falling asleep. The same thing happened the next night, and the night after that. Except now he woke me, so that we might sit quietly together while the others slept. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we kissed—he was on watch, though, so we couldn’t allow ourselves to get too carried away with one another. But despite everything, I cherished those few quiet hours together each night.

There were still no visible signs of pursuit, but I felt certain that we were not free from the Thalmor. Nelacar had made it very clear that Melaran had made this personal, and that he would not give up so easily. He would not and could not allow me to be victorious over him, and so I knew that at some point or another, we _would_ have to face him.

But it would not be out in the open, in the middle of the forest, when it happened.

The day finally came when the mostly flat land turned to hills, and soon the Druadach Mountains were well and truly looming over us. From there, we used Nelacar’s various maps to figure out whether to head north or south in search of Nzudelft’s entrance. And then, only a few hours before sunset, we finally found it.

I had never seen Dwemer ruins before, but they were exactly as all the books I had read had ever described them. Steep stone steps led up the side of the mountain—we had to leave the horses below, shouldering our packs, heavy now with the food and water we had been collecting for the last few days. When we reached the top of the path, heavy, ornately-carved, bronze doors greeted us.

The greatest bit of luck was that Nelacar had been right about this being a place where scholars had made a habit of visiting. There was a permanent camp, albeit currently vacated, along with chests stocked with food and other supplies. Several of the chests were enchanted to remain cold, and thus there was a decent supply of meat and fruit—which I supposed we would have to dry if we wanted it to last us through our journey. There were also fairly detailed maps, though they only went so far into the ruins, and these even marked the location of underground rivers.

But the high from this relief was short-lived, for here was also where Rin declared that he must bid us good-bye.

“I have been away for too long,” he admitted, rather ruefully, it must be confessed, as we all stood facing him. “Allie will be wondering what’s become of me, and I suppose it isn’t fair to make him worry.”

“I should think not,” said my husband, but I caught the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“Will you be safe, returning home on your own?” asked Hasan.

“Oh, yes. I should be able to avoid the Thalmor well enough. I may even try to delay them, if I can.”

“Don’t do anything dangerous,” said Galmar, his voice even gruffer than usual.

The prince smiled.

“I won’t. I’m thinking, a trap here, an angry hornet’s nest there—it’ll be fun.”

After a moment, he turned to me, a curious look on his face. I knew in that moment that I was going to miss him—he was exactly as Lia had predicted: a young mer prince, newly wedded to a human king, just like myself—and as dreadfully in need of a friend as I had been.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. “How did you and your king meet?”

I ignored the groans of the others as I felt the grin spread over my face.

“Well, it wasn’t quite as exciting as the way you and _your_ king met,” I said. “I was a servant, in the palace. We used to meet in a spare room and just talk. Then I became his personal servant, and…”

“The rest is history?” he asked, smiling.

“The rest is history.”

He nodded, then turned to my husband next.

“It has been an honor, High King Ulfric.”

And then, to my great surprise—Ulfric Stormcloak, jarl of Windhelm, and High King of Skyrim, bowed to the Prince of Farrun.

“I owe you a debt that can never be repaid, Prince Rininion. I thank you for guiding those who are most dear to me.” His expression sharpened then, as their eyes met. “Now hurry home to that husband of yours. He has been waiting long enough.”

Rin laughed, then bid us all good-bye one more time before turning and heading towards the stone steps. He paused to wave one last time—I, Eleanor, Hasan, and Ania of course all waved back—before loping his way back down. And just like that, he was gone.

I sighed, and looked at my friends and family, then up at my husband. He rested his hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly, then we all turned to face the great doors of Nzudelft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for your patience! I'm sorry this latest update took so long. It's nearing the end of the semester for me, so it's getting harder and harder to find time to write. Hopefully, the next update will be out sooner rather than later!
> 
> (And goodness -- it certainly is nice to see our sappy bear king back to his old self again, isn't it? ❤)
> 
> (Also, don't forget to join Casien's Discord server! Your number one hot spot for story and one-shot updates! https://discord.gg/xQCrcyT)


	21. Chapter 21

The first thing I noticed was the noise.

It was a continuous, thrumming sort of clicking sound, not unlike what I heard when I pressed my ear to the Dwemer clock in our bedroom or in the jarl’s office. Only this was much deeper and heavier, echoing throughout the large hallway we now stood in, the multitudinous sounds ceaselessly repeating and bouncing off of one another.

“What is that?” asked Ania, and I think it was the first time I’d ever heard her sound a little bit frightened.

“Don’t worry,” said Eleanor, though even she sounded uncertain. “That’s just the Dwemer machinery. It’s been running for thousands of years. Our presence shouldn’t disturb it.”

“What about those things you said Nelacar mentioned?” asked Hasan, his left hand resting on his sword hilt. “The machines the Dwemer built to fight and protect their homes?”

“We’ll deal with those when we encounter them,” said Galmar grimly. “ _If_ we encounter them.”

“It is unlikely that we could pass through this entire mountain and not encounter the guardians built to protect it,” said my husband. “Stay on your guard.”

Aside from the constant clicking and whirring of machinery, the strangest thing about the ruins was the artificial lighting. Eleanor said it was powered by magicka, but how could magicka exist in perpetuity like this? The lighting structures were positioned far above our heads, so we couldn’t examine them—not that Ulfric or Galmar would have given us time and leave to do so.

I stayed close to my husband, who kept himself a step or two ahead of me. Hasan, Ania, and Eleanor were behind us; Eleanor walked with one of Nelacar’s maps unfolded in her hands, her head bent occasionally to examine it. Galmar brought up the rear.

It was quiet, save for the sound of the machines. We were all likely too on edge to try and engage in conversation. I was also slowly growing more and more tired the deeper and further we went. After several days of riding, we were now back to walking, and carrying packs even heavier than before. Of course, the warriors among us shouldered most of the burden of our supplies, but Eleanor and I both struggled to even carry what little we were given. My shoulders ached and I could feel blisters already beginning to form once again on my feet. I was close to begging the others to let us stop for a moment, so decided to distract myself from my own weariness and discomfort.

“Have you ever been in a Dwemer ruin before?” I asked, falling back a little so that Eleanor and I were now walking somewhat side-by-side.

“No.” She looked up from her map, her eyes alighting on and following a large pipe which ran along the side of the wall. “But I’ve always wanted to.”

I couldn’t exactly say the same. What had always bothered me most about the Dwemer is how the entire civilization had apparently disappeared off the face of Nirn, all in one single, cataclysmic event—and yet there was no historical recording of this event. In truth, it reminded me far too much of Malyn Varen’s translocation spell which had very nearly killed all of my professors and fellow students back at the college. Beyond that, the Dwemer were an ancient, mysterious folk whose homes now served as death traps for anyone foolish enough to try and enter.

And now I could count myself among that foolhardy number.

I nodded at the pipe. “What do you think’s inside it?”

“Water?” she suggested. “I’ve heard the Dwemer use a sort of hydropower along with their magicka. That would explain the constant pumping.”

“I bet you could feel the water rushing inside if you touched it,” I said, reaching my hand out towards the large, golden pipe.

“Don’t,” said the king over his shoulder.

I quickly drew my hand back.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it may be filled with steam.”

“That’s right!” Eleanor snapped her fingers. “I forgot about that. Steam power. It’s something they’ve been working on in the college at Wayrest, trying to replicate it, or at least that’s what I remember Professor Urag telling me.”

“How do _you_ know so much about the Dwemer, Uncle?” asked Ania.

“I was fascinated by them in my youth. The Greybeards kept a rather sizeable library, and I spent much of my time reading, when I was not studying to become one of them.”

The Greybeards. I couldn’t help but think of the memory I had been unwittingly privy to. I had to assume that his time there had been altogether pleasanter than that one, awful moment I’d witnessed.

 “Their library must have been something,” I said, rather more wistfully than I’d intended.

“You would have enjoyed it,” he said, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice. “It was nearly as large as the great hall, and twice as tall. I have never seen its equal.”

“Imagine what you could find there,” breathed Eleanor. “It must be centuries old.”

“Older. Perhaps as old as these ruins.”

The conversation lapsed then, and we all fell back into silence as we continued deeper into the ruins. I soon realized that without the sky above us, we had no way of knowing how much time had passed since we’d first entered, and thus wouldn’t know when to stop for lunch or when to stop for the day. I had faith in the experienced soldiers among us, but had to bite my tongue when my stomach started rumbling painfully. I could add that to the ache in my back and the pain from the blisters on my feet, I thought wryly.

We did eventually stop to eat—and awkwardly find dark corners to relieve ourselves in. We employed a sort of buddy system for this, at Ulfric’s and Galmar’s insistence. I, of course, paired up with my husband, Eleanor was with Ania, and Hasan with Galmar. This way, no one was ever really alone. It felt a little excessive, but then, I, too, couldn’t help thinking about the terrifying mechanical creatures Nelacar had warned us about.

As yet, there did not appear to be any signs that we were being followed, either. But none of us took that to mean that we were finally free from the Thalmor.

Finally, Galmar declared that we should begin looking for a place to bed down for the night. Luckily, the ruins contained myriad rooms and dead end halls, places where sometimes the perpetual lighting wasn’t so prevalent—sometimes, these rooms were even plunged totally in darkness, but we eschewed these for obvious reasons.

We eventually settled on one small, mostly empty room where we could lay down our bedrolls in relative comfort. There was only one opening that led back to the long hall we’d been traveling through, but it was a wide one; while this would make it easier to keep watch, the others debated whether it was too much of a safety risk and could allow any potential enemies to box us in. However, Eleanor and I had already dropped our packs and flopped down in exhaustion, so I think we rather made the decision for them.

We had a cold, unpleasant dinner, consisting mostly of dried meat and fruit and taking as few sips from our water skins as possible. It was also dreadfully cold—I wasn’t the only who had wrapped myself in my blanket.

“Once we reach Almzchend, we should encounter the underground river,” said Eleanor, still peering at one of her maps while slowly chewing on a piece of jerky. “Then maybe we can go fishing.”

“You can do that pole trick again,” said Ania, looking at me.

My husband looked up, seemingly startled.

“And cook the fish with what?” I asked, rolling my eyes and reluctantly biting into my own piece of jerky—it was too salty, and I just didn’t care for it.

“Well, you can make the fire,” said Hasan slowly. “We’ll just need to find some fuel.”

“The previous explorers noted locations where trees and other plants were actually spotted,” said Eleanor. “We could use those for fuel, if we’re able to find them.”

“Don’t trees need the sun to survive?” I asked.

“I would not be too surprised to learn that the Dwemer had learned of a way to circumvent this,” said Ulfric. He frowned at me. “Tell me about this _pole trick_.”

Galmar snorted and started choking; Hasan reached over to helpfully slap his father-in-law on the back.

“It was a fishing pole,” I said. “Well, a spear. I used to go spear-fishing a lot when I was young.” I frowned. “It’s not exactly my favorite thing in the world to do.”

“You should have seen him, Uncle,” said Ania. I could tell from her tone of voice that she was up to something, though I couldn’t say what. “He was pretty impressive. _And_ had to strip down to his smalls to do it, too.”

“Ania!” I said, blushing, for now the king was gazing at me with slightly widened eyes.

“Watch your tongue, girl,” said Galmar, still recovering from his coughing fit. “Else we’ll all be covering our ears tonight, once these two crawl into bed together.”

“ _Please_ stop,” I said, groaning and momentarily burying my hot face in my hands.

Of course they all started laughing, and soon I felt someone gently tugging one of my hands from my face and taking it in his own. I met my husband’s eyes and gave him a _look_ ; his lips twitched but he said nothing, only kissed my knuckles before lowering his hand again—though he kept a loose, warm hold on my own, and did so until we had all finished eating and were ready for bed.

The watch rotation was then divvied up, with Eleanor and myself once again excluded. Galmar suggested that whoever was on watch remain so until they began to feel tired again—there just was no other way to judge the passage of time.

“Can you take the last watch?” I asked my husband. “I wake up early anyway, and that way I can sit with you.”

“Very well,” he said.

There was something oddly soothing about the constant sounds of Dwemer machinery, gears and pistons and pipes methodically pumping and clicking along. I lay on my side, one hand cushioning my cheek, my eyes closed, listening as though it were music, counting the clicks in my head as though they were sheep. The king, of course, lay very close beside me, my back pressed to his chest, one arm curled around my middle. His hand lay over my free one, and one finger quietly traced against the back of my hand, making my skin tingle pleasantly. I fell asleep without much effort.

Then the next thing I knew, he was shaking me gently awake again.

I blinked and breathed in deeply before nodding and sitting up. He stood up from where he’d been crouched beside me and offered me a hand up; I took it, then together we made our way past our sleeping friends and family—whomever it was we’d relieved was resuming their spot in their own bedroll—and towards the room’s entrance.

We settled in our usual position, him with his back to the wall, me with my back to his chest. Sometimes I would fall asleep again, but I felt wide awake now—not only had I actually gotten a decent night’s—or, well, whatever we were calling it—sleep, but now that I _was_ awake again, the faint feeling of dread and trepidation the ruins seemed to fill me with had returned in full force.

In short, if I had to be here at all, at least I felt safe, snuggled as I was between my husband’s arms and knees.

We were both quiet at first, but this wasn’t unusual. I was generally the one who started talking first.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally said.

“Of course.”

I marveled at the lack of hesitation—then felt guilty for doing so. Anytime I had ever asked something of him, whether it was something he wished to speak of or not, he had always answered me.

“Have you forgiven Galmar yet?”

_Now_ he was silent. I could almost imagine the thoughts rumbling around in his brain, not unlike the constant movement of the Dwemer gears we’d passed.

“I have not,” came the eventual answer. “Nor do I think I ever will be able to. But I do not think he expects me to.”

“Why not?”

“Because he knows—” He paused, as if needing to reword what he wanted to say. “Because my—attachment to you, as he says…”

“…is your greatest weakness,” I finished, the words leaving my lips slowly and sadly.

“You are not a weakness,” he said, sounding almost stern. “Nor would Galmar accuse you of being such. And nor does he accuse _me_ of setting you above all else, including my duties as jarl and high king. But he knows what you mean to me—what would happen to me should I ever lose you. And he believes this fear clouds my judgment at times.”

“…Do you think he’s right?” I asked after a moment.

“Perhaps. But it is a poor king who declares himself infallible rather than acknowledge his faults and seek to grow past them.”

I wondered if this meant whether he would ever ‘grow past’ his fear of losing me. We had been together for over five years now. And I had seen proof of that still lingering fear with my own eyes.

“Do you remember everything?” I asked, once silence had settled between us again. “Since you were captured, I mean.”

“Yes.”

I swallowed. The immediate, one-word response sent a chill down my spine. I blinked, and tried not to think of what had been done to him before I’d managed to find him.

“Do you remember…”

But I found myself unable to finish the question.

“Do I remember…?” he prompted gently.

I took a deep breath.

“It’s just—Nelacar said the Thalmor trapped a portion of your mind in what he called a ‘pocket realm.’ In order to save you, he had to send me there. I had to find you, and bring you back.” I chewed the inside of my bottom lip for a moment before forcing myself to continue. “I saw—what I think were your memories. So—I was wondering if you remember any of what happened.”

He was quiet for a while, then:

“If you are asking whether or not I remember anything regarding you and this so-called pocket realm, the answer is ‘no.’ I cannot fully describe what I felt while I was under their influence. I can only say that I believed I had lost you, and that you and the others were not as you seemed.

“In a sense, I suppose Galmar was right. I believed you were my enemy, and yet I didn’t care. Nothing truly mattered to me anymore, though I must also confess that I did not feel fully myself, either—it was as though I were lost in a fog, unable to see the path clearly before me.”

“I don’t think you should blame yourself for that,” I insisted. “The Thalmor used very complicated magic on you. Very _bad_ magic,” I added, unable to keep the anger from creeping into my voice.

“And you rescued me from this bad magic?” he asked.

He turned his face a little, kissing the side of my own. I could hear the smile on his lips and couldn’t help smiling in return.

“I guess I really did,” I said.

“…And these memories?”

I knew he was asking me to tell him what I’d seen. This was only fair, but—in light of our current conversation, I thought this could only bring him sadness.

Still, I couldn’t deny him the request. He had a right to know.

“The first involved your mother,” I said carefully.

I felt him stiffen behind me, and closed my eyes, biting my lower lip. I knew he didn’t like to talk about his mother—or even his childhood in general.

And now, of course, I knew why.

He was quiet before adding, “A very old memory indeed.”

“You were very young,” I continued after a moment. “She was sad, and crying, and you comforted one another.”

“A not uncommon occurrence, unfortunately.” He sighed, the sound heavy and sad. “And so you saw her. I envy you that.”

“Yes,” I said, smiling a little. “She was very beautiful. You look like her, too.”

He chuckled. “That is kind of you to say.”

“I mean it! Don’t doubt me.” I gave his arm a little chastising tap. “You’re very handsome.”

“Mm. And the other memories?”

“The second, I think, was in High Hrothgar. You had received a letter, and…”

I trailed off, not quite sure how to tell him about the letter’s contents. Of course, he’d already read that letter, long ago. But it had clearly been such a wretched moment; I hated to dredge it back up again.

“I think I can guess which letter that was,” he eventually said, sparing me from having to say it aloud. “It is the reason I left the Greybeards. Though I can admit to myself now that in many ways I was only using it as an excuse.”

“An excuse? For what?”

“I had grown restless. I was becoming a man, and yet I had none of the expectations that other young men and women had been raised to have. I was a Nord, yet I would never die honorably in battle. I was the son of a jarl, yet I would never rule my people. The Greybeards claimed they chose wisely, but I cannot see how, for I know now that it was never my destiny to remain among them.”

I wished I could tell him that he was too hard on himself—in this and in everything. He had once told me that he had been only nineteen when he left the mountain to join his father in the war, which meant he had spent his entire adolescence away from the only home and family he’d ever known. It would have been only natural for him to question a decision made at such a young age.

“And these were all that you saw?” he asked, startling me from my thoughts.

I shifted guiltily.

“…No,” I said. “The next one was—well, the first time I was seriously ill. You sat beside me and held my hand. Lia tried to convince you that there was nothing to do but wait. I think she wanted you to return to your duties as jarl, but you wouldn’t listen.”

He surprised me then by chuckling.

“Poor Lia. Yes, I was rather useless that week, if I recall correctly. Galmar even yelled at me, but I suppose that is nothing new.”

“And the last memory was the most recent. You and he were on a ship, leaving the city. You were sad about having to leave before I’d returned.”

“Hm. Had I only known what would await us both.”

I sighed.

“If only I hadn’t gotten sick. I would have arrived home in time, and—

“And I would have taken you with me. No, little roebuck, I do not think I wish to follow that line of thought.” The arms around me gave a gentle squeeze. “But we are together now, and we shall soon be home. And all will be as it should be again.”

It was a comforting thought: home. I closed my eyes and relaxed into his embrace a bit more, trying to picture myself back in Windhelm, in the palace, up in our rooms together. Maybe we were in the sitting room, or perhaps in front of the fireplace, or—on the windowsill by my reading nook, overlooking the bay. I could almost hear the sound of the waves below, slapping lazily against the stone walls of the palace, or the gulls calling to one another from beneath the heavy, gray clouds.

And then I was suddenly shoved sideways, my eyes snapping open in alarm.

Ulfric—it was he who had pushed me—fell with me, his arms wrapped tightly around me. I _saw_ the arrow, slicing through the air above us now and knocking against the stone wall where our heads had just been.

“W—?!”

My husband’s hand clamped heavily over my mouth, silencing me. He still lay half-on top of me, his other arm holding me still.

I gazed out towards the dimly-lit hallway with wide eyes—and saw something move.

It crept forward, pale-skinned and sightless, bow in hand.

Ulfric’s hand slowly, silently, moved away from my mouth. He held a finger up, then pointed it at me—then back towards our camp—then held up three fingers.

I nodded.

Slowly, he folded first one finger, then the second—then the third.

In one, fluid movement, he sat up, lifted me up as though I weighed nothing, and pushed me forward.

“Go!!” he shouted.

I ran, tripping over myself as I did. I don’t know if he followed me. I heard a scuttling, shuffling sound behind me, as of bare feet and claws scraping rapidly against stone, then the clash of steel against steel.

Then one of them landed right in front of me.

It must have dropped down from the ceiling. It was taller than me, even semi-crouched, and held its jagged sword in one hand; the other hand reached out, bony fingers grasping me by one shoulder. It lifted its sword, and—another blade sliced clean through its neck, causing its head to roll right off its shoulders.

Galmar pushed the body aside, wrenching the clawed hand from my shoulder before grabbing me and shoving me towards one corner of the room, where Eleanor now also crouched.

“Stay together!” he said

I didn’t have to be told twice. Eleanor and I clung to one another; I could feel her body trembling against mine. We pressed ourselves against the wall and tried to stay as silent and motionless as possible.

The room we were in was very dimly-lit; portions of it were totally dark—it’s why we had selected it to bed down in in the first place. The ceiling was also very high, as it had been in various locations throughout the ruins.

Our attackers clearly used this to their advantage. I didn’t know where they’d come from—how long they’d been following us. They appeared from the shadows, dropping down from great heights and rushing their targets.

“What’s happening?” asked Eleanor, terrified, and I realized she couldn’t see as well as I could, and panic struck me, for that meant the rest of my family couldn’t either.

But the sound of her voice alerted the creatures to our presence.

Two came rushing, scuttling forward, swords bared. I pushed Eleanor behind me, but it was happening too fast; I was afraid to use magic, lest I accidentally strike one of the others. But I had no weapons on me.

I brought my ward up at the last minute, just as the first two swung their twisted swords at our heads. The metal sank into the ward but couldn’t penetrate fully, sparks flashing outward. Behind me, Eleanor shrieked and crouched down into a ball.

The creatures pressed their swords against my ward. I stumbled backward, the ward buckling.

“Casien!” cried Eleanor.

They were too strong—stronger than the Thalmor. My arms shook.

So I did the only thing I could think to do. As I had against the Thalmor, I brought my hands quickly to the ground, slapping the stone floor, and shattering my ward. The residual energy rocketed towards the creatures, staggering them—

But they didn’t fall.

Instead, they rushed me again. Frantic, I finally shot out a fireball; it hit the first, but the second—

It was nearly upon us when it suddenly had its torso cleaved clean in half. My husband pushed the corpse aside and grabbed hold of me—albeit gently—and gazed at me, panting and pale-faced.

“Are you injured?” he asked.

“No,” I said, though I let him run his hands quickly over my body, for clearly he needed the added reassurance. He looked to Eleanor next, and she hastily shook her head.

“She’s fine,” I said. “We’re both fine.”

Miraculously, save for a few cuts—some more serious than others—and bruises, so was everyone else. I saw Ania dispatch the burning remains of the creature I’d targeted, but afterward, the rest were all down, and there appeared to be no more—at least for now.

“What are these things?” asked Hasan, a vaguely disgusted look on his face as he bent to pull a knife free from one of the bodies.

“Fa…Falmer,” stammered Eleanor. “I think.”

“The desiccated remains of a once great race,” said Ulfric, using the rags of one creature to clean his blade before sheathing it.

“The Falmer!” I gazed down in horror at the body nearest me. “But that’s impossible. They’re all supposed to be gone! Just like the Dwemer!”

“If this is what’s become of them, I’d say the Dwemer were the luckier ones,” said Hasan, now gingerly massaging his still healing shoulder.

“Assuming we don’t encounter any of _them_ either,” said Ania.

“I suggest we pack up and get the hell out of here,” said Galmar “We’re up, might as well use our time wisely.”

“Agreed,” said the king.

And thus concluded our first night in Nzudelft. I wondered at neither Nelacar nor the notes he’d left us mentioning the existence of the Falmer, but Eleanor speculated that perhaps they had moved in only recently. The last expedition, after all, had been months ago.

“Do you think there could be more of them?” I asked, once we resumed our journey again.

“It’s possible,” said Eleanor, grimacing as she adjusted her pack. “But I really don’t know much about them. There hasn’t exactly been a great deal written about them, at least not recently.”

“If I recall, they are believed to live in small groups or clans,” said my husband, who now insisted on keeping a greater distance between us and him, and now also walked with his sword unsheathed, as did the other three. “Their leaders are said to possess some degree of proficiency with magic, for the Falmer of old were great mages.”

“And none of the ones who attacked us were mages,” said Eleanor, frowning. “So maybe that _wasn’t_ the last of them.”

“If we’re lucky, maybe they’ll stay and attack Melaran next,” I said.

“That would be nice of them,” joked Hasan, who’d been ordered by both father- and uncle-in-law to stay near us. He and Ania were trading babysitting duty, I think, but I couldn’t drum up any real indignation over it—after what had just happened, I welcomed the extra security.

We marched past the time we would have presumably normally woken up and had breakfast, for my stomach was eager to let me know that it was anticipating being fed. However, since none of the others suggested stopping, I kept my hunger to myself and trudged resolutely forward. We still hadn’t encountered any of the malicious Dwemer automatons Nelacar had warned us about, but I was beginning to suspect the Falmer were responsible for that. Perhaps the two did not exactly live in harmony together. In truth, I wasn’t sure which I preferred having to face in battle—the Falmer had been terrifying, yes, but Nelacar’s descriptions of the automatons had almost been even more so.

Around what surely must have been lunchtime, I finally begged for us to stop. I could tell from Eleanor’s expression that she felt the same way. Strangely enough, it was my husband who was the first to object.

“I know you are tired,” he said, and he glanced at Eleanor as well, “But I would put as much distance between us and those creatures as we possibly can.”

“Aye, but they’re not soldiers, Ulfric,” said Galmar, surprising me. “We can’t march them till their feet fall off.”

“Then we’d just have to carry them,” grumbled Ania.

The king looked at them before gazing down at us again. His expression softened when his eyes met mine, and I recognized the faint pang of guilt that crept over his face.

“Very well,” he said, “But we stay on our guard.”

Eleanor and I pushed the straps from around our shoulders and let our packs fall where we stood. We both plopped down then before reaching into our packs and hunting for something to chew on. The others took their time securing the medium-sized area we were in at the time, and, though it appeared to have multiple entrances and exits, it was at least very well-lit.

“I have to pee,” I said after a while.

“I’m glad you said it so I didn’t have to,” muttered Eleanor.

My husband nodded and, after finally setting his own pack down, made his way towards some of the smaller rooms. Once he declared at least one of them safe, he beckoned towards me. I set my meager lunch down and got to my feet.

“Over there,” he said, pointing to a dark corner while resting his other hand absently on my shoulder.

“Are you going to stand there and watch me again?” I asked as I made my way carefully over. He didn’t answer, since we both knew it was a rhetorical question.

The ruins were often just that: ruins—bits of dirt and rubble where portions of the walls—if we could call them that—had caved in were not uncommon, and these seemed to make decent latrines. I dug a little hole with the heel of my boot, then paused to look over my shoulder and stick my tongue out at my indifferent husband before undoing my laces.

“Did you see this?” I asked once I’d finished, for I’d noticed a sort of relief on the remains of the wall nearby. It had a strange symbol on it, like nothing I’d ever seen—I wondered if it had something to do with the Dwemer language.

“Casien,” said the king, “don’t touch—

But he was too late. I’d already brushed my fingers over the relief, my palm pressing gently over it to feel the raised metal. I heard an abrupt, mechanical click behind me and whirled around—

—Only to see a wall of spikes rise up out of the floor and imbed themselves in the ceiling.

I was now definitively cut off from the rest of my party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I listened to for this chapter the most was probably [Gollum's Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgFpHs5dGdg). The lyrics are so reminiscent of the tragedy of the Falmer it's almost unreal.
> 
> Also! I've _mostly_ made up my mind which story I want to tell once Casen's is _mostly_ over. (This boy's story never truly ends. Not only is he likely to make cameos in the next story, but I can't seem to stop writing one-shots for him!) But, if you still want to vote on the poll for the next story, feel free!!
> 
> LINK: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/Y8G896J


	22. Chapter 22

“Casien!!”

My name on my husband’s lips jolted me from my shock. I ran forward, wrapping my fingers around the golden bars that now pierced through the door frame, separating us.

He wrapped his hands around mine, the fear in his eyes palpable as he gazed down at me.

“I’m sorry!” I said, and I don’t think truer words had ever been spoken. “I know I shouldn’t have touched that thing, I just—” I bit my lip to stay the tremble of panic I could feel washing over me. “I just really fucked up again, didn’t I? We were almost finally home, and I fucked everything up!”

“Hush, dear heart,” he said, his hands squeezing mine, “Calm yourself. We will—”

“What happened?” interrupted Galmar, running up behind him, and I could see the others hurrying towards us as well.

“I pushed some sort of button,” I said miserably. “It caused these things to appear and now I’m trapped!”

“Look around you,” said Ania, peering over her father and uncle’s shoulders. “See if you can find another way out.”

“But don’t go too far,” warned Hasan, and I could hear the concern in his voice.

“…You probably need to led the lad go, Ulfric,” said Galmar after a moment.

“I cannot lose him again,” came the quiet, anguished reply, and I think I only heard him because his face was so close to mine, his eyes locked with my own.

“We’ll not lose him,” said Galmar, “He’s just going to see if there’s another exit.”

Gradually, his fingers around mine relaxed. I pulled my own free from his, lowering my hands and gazing anxiously behind me into the darkened room.

“Use a mage light,” said Eleanor.

I nodded, and brought one up. It almost seemed to pulse with the rapid beating of my heart as it bobbed in the air beside me. I made my way cautiously towards the back of the room, closer to the corner opposite my makeshift latrine.

The walls were covered in dirt and debris in places, but they were solid Dwemer metal, as most of the ruins were. There would be no getting through that, just as there was surely no way of getting through the metal bars which now pierced the room’s doorway. Digging was also off the table; the floor was either metal or stone. The ceiling, too, seemed solid and impenetrable—until I noticed the large pipe protruding through one wall.

“There’s a pipe!” I called out over my shoulder. “It’s pretty high up, so I can’t see if it goes anywhere.”

“If it’s near the corner, you can use that trick Rin showed us,” said Eleanor. “Remember? How he had you vault off the side of the tree?”

“Yeah,” I said, frowning up at the pipe, “Only this time he’s not there to grab me.”

“Do _not_ hurt yourself,” commanded my husband

“I won’t,” I promised. I swallowed and gazed up at the pipe, then at the wall, then back up at the pipe.

I took a deep breath, squeezed my hands briefly into fists—then just went for it.

I don’t think anyone was more surprised than I was when my fingers closed on the outer rim of the pipe.

“He did it!” cried Hasan.

“He’s going to fall,” said Ania, and I growled under my breath at that, though in that moment I despaired of ever having the strength to pull myself up.

“Just get up to your elbows,” said Galmar. “Then crawl the rest of the way forward.”

I tried to take his advice, my arm and shoulder muscles screaming as I gritted my teeth and slowly, oh so slowly, hauled myself up onto my elbows. My feet kicked uselessly behind me, but eventually, I was able to pull myself up enough so that my chest, then my stomach were in the pipe. Finally, once my hips made it up, I was able to get more traction and wiggle all the way inside. I rolled over onto my back for a moment, just breathing and letting my poor, agonized body relax.

“Okay, what happened,” said Ania. “Did he faint?”

“I didn’t faint!” I snapped back, and I heard both her and Hasan laughing.

“Keep going,” said Galmar. “Tell us what you see.”

“I don’t like this,” said Ulfric, and I could hear the anger and impotent frustration in his low voice.

“I know you don’t,” replied Galmar. “But we’ve no other choice.”

I rolled over back onto my belly, brought my mage light back up, and started crawling forward. But I didn’t have to go very far before I found what I was looking for.

“There’s another opening!” I said. I crawled forward a bit more until I was nearly over it—an opening in the pipe which faced down into a well-lit room. It resembled many of the other rooms we had passed through; there was even some bit of machinery in one corner, gears and levers still pumping and grinding away.

“Casien!” said my husband.

“I’m still here,” I called back. “It’s a hole! It opens into some room.”

“Is there a doorway?” asked Galmar.

“Yes. It leads into a passageway, but I can’t tell where it goes from there.”

“Come back.”

I obliged my husband’s command, the pipe just large enough for me to turn around fully and come crawling back towards the opening.

“…still propose that one of us remain here,” he was saying.

“And should the damned elves come strolling along, you’ll do what?” asked Galmar. “Fend them off yourself?”

“If necessary.”

“Uncle,” said Ania, “Don’t. You’d be throwing your life away.”

“Casien can stay hidden in the pipe,” said Hasan. “If they pass this way, they’ll never even know he’s here. In that scenario, he might even be safer than any of us.”

“Don’t forget that most of the Thalmor are mages,” added Ania. “You might be able to Shout some of them to Oblivion, but you can’t Shout in every direction. This room has multiple entrances; they’ll likely surround you.”

“Ulfric,” I said, interrupting the tense silence that had fallen over their conversation. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

They all turned to look at me—Ulfric and Galmar still closest to the room’s barred entrance, Ania and Hasan standing just behind them. I couldn’t see Eleanor, but I assumed she was behind the other two.

My husband reached up, one hand gripping the bars again.

“You will _not_ enter that room,” he said. “You will stay in the pipe.”

I nodded. “I will. I promise.”

“No matter what happens. No matter what you see or hear.”

“No matter what.”

He sighed, his body almost visibly sagging, his eyes closing momentarily. Beside him, the others remained silent, their expressions guarded.

“Very well,” he eventually said.

Galmar rested a hand briefly on his friend’s shoulder. Ulfric looked at him and pressed his lips together before looking at me again.

“The room that you saw,” he said. “Which direction did the door open towards?”

“That way,” I said, pointing to indicate.

He nodded.

“Then we go that way.”

“And if the path should split?” asked Hasan.

“Then so shall we.”

I hated the thought of them having to separate—almost as much as I hated the thought of them all leaving me here, alone, in the dark. But I could see the wisdom in it. Plus, I wasn’t exactly in a position to protest.

The others fell back a little then, leaving only my husband standing in the doorway, his eyes meeting mine.

“I’d come down and kiss you,” I said, trying to smile, “but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back up again.”

“We will be together again soon,” he said, the fingers of one hand gripping the bars again.

I bit my lip.

“I know,” I managed.

“No tears,” he said, a tiny smile forming on his own lips. “I will not allow it.”

I rolled my eyes and gave a discreet little sniff. “Did you seriously just _command_ me not to cry.”

“I did.” He paused for a moment, then. “Scoot back. Should our enemies pass this way, I would not have them see or hear you.”

I did as he suggested, moving back on my hands and knees a few feet before settling back down on my belly. I waved, then, but I don’t think he could see me. He stood there for a moment longer before finally turning and joining the others.

I crossed my arms before me and rested my chin on them, listening to the fading footsteps of my friends and family. I sighed and tried hard not to give in to fear—nor to self-loathing, for it was impossible not to blame myself for the predicament we were all in. Not only was I stuck here, but the process of finding me could add any number of hours to our journey, which in turn could allow our pursuers to gain that much more ground on us. But, perhaps I would be lucky, and whatever path connected the room beneath the pipe to the main hallway would be located in a matter of minutes. I’d hear the voices of Galmar, my husband, and the others, filtering up through the pipe, and we’d be off again before I even managed to get too hungry for lunch.

I closed my eyes and counted the _click_ , _click_ , _click_ , _click_ of the Dwemer gears.

By the time I got to five hundred, I resigned myself to the obvious: I was going to be here awhile.

My stomach began to rumble and twist painfully inside me. I bit the side of my cheek and tried to ignore it. I thought I might try to let myself sleep—I was very tired, after all—but then suppose the others arrived, and called to me, and I didn’t answer? After all, they wouldn’t know which room I was currently lying over. I would have to listen for their voices.

Of course, my eyes were already closed. I became aware on some level of drifting along that subconscious line between sleep and awake. I think I even dreamed a little—one of those strange, half-awake dreams that you can sometimes direct in your own head.

A soft clicking sound startled me from my thoughts.

I lifted my chin, panic thrumming through me as a panel towards the mouth of the pipe suddenly slid open—and out dropped a metal spider about twice the size of my cat.

I sat up quickly, crying out when I banged the top of my head against the pipe. The spider’s mechanical body seemed to vibrate for a moment before it began rapidly advancing towards me.

I reacted on instinct.

My fireball sent it scuttling back, razor-sharp claws scrabbling at the metal pipe before it and my fireball shot completely out the other end of the pipe.

I breathed a sigh of relief—then froze.

The soft clicking sound began again.

And even as a new spider dropped down before me, the first one reappeared in the mouth of pipe, flames still licking up its metal claws.

Fire hadn’t worked, so I tried ice this time. The spikes bounced harmlessly off the Dwemer metal, the spiders only shaking themselves before continuing their rapid advancement. I was on hands and knees now; I glanced behind me before hastily backing up, almost too slow as I brought my hand up and slapped a ward between myself and the spiders—one of which had launched itself at me.

It bounced against the ward, the ward crackling, sending painful shocks up my right arm. Then the second spider attacked. More sizzling pain.

And then a third spider dropped down from the little hole.

Ulfric had told me, in no uncertain terms, to stay in the pipe. But that was obviously no longer an option. I sent out another fireball, sweeping all three spiders out the other end of the pipe—then turned as quickly as I could and raced towards the hole that led to the other room.

It was quite a drop, but I didn’t exactly have much choice. I could already hear the soft clicking sound again as I shifted to sit down on the edge of the hole, letting my feet dangle. I took a quick, deep breath—the ground looked _impossibly_ far away, but I thought it couldn’t be more than 10, maybe 12 feet—and dropped down.

I landed hard. The shock of the impact sent a jolt of pain ricocheting through my body, though quickly centering itself somewhere in the vicinity of my right ankle. By some miracle, I seemed to naturally lean forward as I hit the ground, though instead of putting too much pressure on my palms, I continue to roll onto my right shoulder and finally ended up on my back.

I blinked up at the ceiling, all the wind briefly knocked out of me, my ankle throbbing.

Then the first spider appeared in the mouth of the hole and dropped down directly on top of me.

I brought my ward up again, crying out as the spider’s metal claws sank into the ward. I flung it aside as best I could, shooting a fireball at it for good measure, then quickly rolled away and back onto my feet.

I hobbled towards the doorway, glancing back over my shoulder as I did. The first spider was back in pursuit, but not only that—the others began dropping down as well. I sent frantic fireball after fireball at them, but this delayed them for only a few seconds.

Then, as I passed through the doorway, from the corner of my eye, I just managed to catch sight of a familiar relief.

It bore the same symbol as the one I’d pressed in the other room.

I slammed my palm over it. I heard the bars rising rapidly up; by the time I’d whirled around to face the room again, they’d already shot up through the doorway. The spiders all gathered there, seemingly watching me, vibrating and launching themselves towards me—but now bouncing harmlessly off the metal bars.

I sighed and leaned back against the wall, my eyes sliding closed.

My ankle still throbbed, seemed to throb harder now that I was paying attention to it. But I didn’t think it was broken.

After a moment, I straightened, and faced away from the doorway and the room full of ever-increasing spiders.

The hallway was dark. The omnipresent sounds of gears clicking and pistons pumping filled the air, but this seemed to be a mainstay throughout the ruins. I conjured a mage light and began to walk—or hobble—forward.

I passed rooms, all about the same size as the one I’d just been in. I tried to be as quiet as possible, though I didn’t think the spiders had responded to any sort of noise I’d been making in the pipe. Yet sense my presence they most certainly had. Still, I saw no point in barreling my way through the ruins, yelling at the top of my lungs, knocking things over, and making a general nuisance of myself. Not when, at least according to Nelacar, mechanical spiders were likely the least terrifying thing about this place.

And then, of course, there were the Falmer.

I didn’t enter any of the rooms, only flicked my mage light just forward enough to see if there were any other openings. A cold stone settled in my stomach when I thought of becoming trapped in one of them, just as I had in the first room. Imagining myself trapped and lost down here forever, my husband, family, and best friend eventually giving up all hope of finding me—well, that put _several_ stones in my stomach, so I did my best not to even consider it.

Though in my heart I knew that Ulfric would never stop looking for me. In the end, we would both die down here. Galmar, if he had any sense—and he did—would take the others and leave him, ensuring that at least the future High Queen survived.

“Enough,” I muttered to myself, giving my shoulders a little shake, and doing my best to shake the thought from my head as well. I was _not_ going to get lost down here. There was only one hallway, and none of the doors so far possessed any alternate openings. Getting lost was impossible.

I was not going to die.

I squared my shoulders and marched (hobbled) onward.

Eventually, the hallway opened up to an immense, multi-level room. The lighting had increased tenfold, as had the cacophony of sound, for machinery seemed imbedded into every nook and cranny, pumping, clicking, and grinding away as it had for millennia. The upper level, which was where I now stood, split in two and continued along the sides of the room. The lower area, which encompassed the main, middle portion of the room, could be accessed via a stone ramp which proceeded directly from the doorway I now hovered near.

Most of the lighting centered on the middle part of the room, and as this was a vast, open space with few places to hide, I decided it would be safer—just in case—to venture along the upper level. However, when I hobbled my way towards the left wall, I realized the pipes placed along the wall—and hence along the pathway—were actually _moving_. Every few seconds, several of them would jerk forward, sending puffs of what I hoped was only steam into the air. Then, they’d slide back into place, only for the pipe next to them to then repeat the maneuver.

There appeared to be no rhyme or reason for which pipes moved forward and which ones didn’t. Were I to be caught standing in front of one of the pipes when it pistoned out, it would piston me out as well—flinging me down into the lower part of the room, where I’d doubtlessly land in a bloodied, lifeless heap.

So _that_ wasn’t an option.

I sighed and hobbled my way back towards the room’s entrance. Now that I knew to look for them, it seemed as though the pipes on the right side of the room were acting similarly. It was looking like traipsing through the brightly-lit center of the room was my only real option.

I began to make my way down the ramp. The sooner I made my way across, I thought, the sooner I’d be back within the relative safety of the hallway. Not that I could give any rational reason for why I felt safer in the hallway, only that it was darker and closer, and didn’t leave me feeling so vulnerable and exposed.

The sounds of the machinery seemed to increase as I descended further into the room. The floor seemed strangely polished, and not as though mortal feet likely hadn’t tread here for thousands of years. Tables of what looked like scrap metal lined the outer walls of the room, alongside stone benches and other unusual looking furniture.

I also passed several large, stationary, metal spheres. They looked extraordinarily heavy, and seemed to serve no real purpose, as they were scattered about the room seemingly at random. Yet as intriguing as they were, I knew now to leave well enough alone, so I did my best to skirt around them.

Unfortunately, there was also one positioned right in the center of the bottom of the second ramp.

I paused, my mouth twisting a little. There was probably nothing to really fear. After all, it was just a giant metal ball. What was it going to do, start rolling towards me?

I huffed to myself and continued forward.

The sphere was half as tall as I was, perhaps a bit taller, and—now that I was close enough to notice—seemed to be emitting tiny jets of steam, for it was not all one solid piece of metal. That was probably my first warning that these were no ordinary spheres. I increased my pace, hobbling past the sphere and up the ramp as quickly as I could—

A sharp, mechanical _clang!_ sounded behind me.

I turned around on instinct, my heart suddenly thumping its way up into my throat.

The steam jettisoning from the sphere seemed to have increased exponentially. There was a mechanical, clicking, _winding_ sound, not unlike that of the Dwemer clocks in our bedroom and in the king’s office. Then, in one fluid motion, the top of the sphere slid open, and what looked like a metal _person_ was suddenly poised menacingly above the sphere. Sightless metal eyes turned to face me—and a long, sharp blade shot out of one arm.

I turned back around and _RAN_.

I could hear the sphere rolling forward in pursuit; even worse, I caught the sound of several more sharp _clang!_ s scattered throughout the room. I glanced behind me. Now there were multiple spheres, all rolling towards me, metal bodies bent slightly forward, ‘eyes’ trained towards me.

I shot a fireball at the one closest to me—nothing.

I shot ice spikes—they bounced harmlessly off the metal.

Lightning—the sparks ricocheted loudly off the sphere, leaping from one object to the next.

Still nothing.

I forgot about the pain in my ankle. I was in a full-fledged run. But the sphere was gaining, and the half dozen others behind it were gaining as well. _I’m going to die_ , I realized, the thought sort of floating listlessly through my brain despite the actual rapidity of my doom. The others would find my mutilated body staining the floor of these ruins, and that would be the end of that.

The floor.

In one, last second surge of inspiration, I flung my hand out behind me, only this time I aimed not for the sphere but for the floor. I cast the snap freeze spell—and the floor behind me was suddenly covered in a thick layer of ice.

Of course, this only served to make the Dwemer sphere roll even _faster_ towards me. But it no longer had any control over its destination, and this seemed to confuse it. I stopped abruptly, dropping to my knees and covering my head with my arms as the sphere skidded past me, its mechanical arms swinging wildly.

It crashed into the nearby wall.

I quickly cast the snap freeze spell again, this time surrounding it, essentially pinning it down. I turned then and froze the rest of the floor behind me, too, halting the other spheres that were in pursuit.

I stood there, panting heavily, as the spheres all paused and seemed to stare back at me, their mechanical bodies vibrating ever so slightly, metal hands clicking and scissoring.

Then one of them gave a tentative roll forward, metal skidding briefly over the ice—and leaned forward, aggressively stabbing its sword-arm into the ice.

Then, steam jettisoning out from the vents in its mechanical body, it lugged the rest of its spherical body forward across the ice.

I took a step back, horror washing over me.

And all the other spheres leaned forward and stabbed their arms into the ice as well.

I turned and started running again, the darkened hallway only a few feet away now. Knowing I surely had only a few more seconds left to live, barring some kind of miracle, I flung myself into the dark—

—and into the arms of Hasan.

I blinked up at him, no time for shock or relief.

“Run!” I cried.

But he didn’t run, nor did Ania beside him. He moved me gently aside before unsheathing his sword and pulling a golden shield he had strapped to his back, Ania doing the same. Then the both of them charged forward.

I shrank instinctively back from the ensuing battle, my heart once again in my throat, but this time in fear for the lives of my loved ones. I couldn’t look away—yet I needn’t have worried myself, for Hasan, despite having once been little more than a common guardsman, was well-trained, powerful, and relentless in his attacks. And Ania—I had never truly had the chance to sit back and watch her fight, and now that I did—it was like observing some sort of war goddess. She didn’t wait for the spheres to come to her, no; _she_ came to _them_ , knocking them back with her shield, then leaping up onto the sphere itself to stab her sword into the heart of the metal creature—not that I thought those things had hearts, but apparently, wedging one’s blade into some critical joint or other and twisting until the parts flew apart with a sizzling, smoking spark appeared to have nearly the same effect.

It was quite possibly the _loudest_ battle I had ever witnessed, with the constant sound of hard Dwemer metal clanging against hard Dwemer metal—I had to assume Ania and Hasan had found those golden shields somewhere in the ruins. But the spheres were not particularly clever or innovative, and once the two human fighters figured out their tells and their structural weaknesses, it was over soon enough.

“Are you all right?” asked Hasan, sheathing his sword and hurrying towards me.

He had a red welt across one cheek which I imagined would make shaving less than enjoyable for the foreseeable future, but appeared otherwise uninjured. Ania bore a gash on her left arm and right leg, but, not surprisingly, neither seemed to bother her.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“That why you’re standing on one foot?” asked Ania, sheathing her own sword and snorting at me.

I rolled my eyes.

“Fine,” I said. “I had to jump out of that hole in the pipe, and my landing wasn’t the best.”

She sighed, shaking her head.

“Why does Uncle even bother with you.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” I said. “I was being chased by spiders!”

“Spiders!” said Hasan, blanching.

“Mechanical spiders,” I said, reassuring him. “Not real ones.”

“Nine,” he muttered, taking my arm and looping it around his shoulder. “That’s somehow worse.”

“Where are the others?” I asked, as we began making our way down the dark hallway together. I remembered to conjure a mage light to help light the way.

“We had to separate,” said Ania. “Your little friend went with Uncle and Father. Said she figured that’d be the safer bet.”

“I guess she wasn’t wrong,” said Hasan, smiling.

“Assuming nothing happened to them,” I said, anxiety already twisting at my gut.

“I wouldn’t worry about them,” he said, the supporting hand around my side giving me a friendly pat. “Both the general and the jarl are worth ten of any of us. And together? They’re a force to be reckoned with.”

As we made our way slowly through the deepening darkness, I could only hope that he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspirational song for this chapter is ["Run Boy Run"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmc21V-zBq0) by Woodkid 👀


	23. Chapter 23

Ania and Hasan moved more swiftly and assuredly through the ruins than I had, for they now knew where they were going—retracing their steps back the way they had come, at least until we came to the point where they and Ulfric, Galmar, and Eleanor had separated. My ankle hindered our pace somewhat, but Hasan’s support helped me keep most of my weight off of it, and I was otherwise uninjured.

“And you didn’t encounter any automatons or Falmer on the way here?” I asked, unable to help glancing into each dark, empty room we passed.

“Nope,” said Ania.

That was a relief. Though it didn’t necessarily mean that we wouldn’t encounter them on the return trip; the spiders, after all, had been triggered by gods only knew what. I was reasonably certain that my proximity had triggered the first sphere to come to life—some sort of protection protocol, I supposed, which then resulted in a rippling effect amongst the other spheres. And as for the Falmer—well, they were sentient creatures. Perhaps they _were_ here, lurking in the unseen dark, only choosing not to attack for whatever reason. It was not a comforting thought.

“This is it, isn’t it?” said Hasan, once we came to a large juncture in the hallway.

“Which way did they go?” I asked, for the way splintered off in several different directions—I couldn’t even be sure in which direction they had all originally come from.

“This way,” said Ania.

She took the lead this time, Hasan and I behind her. Both drew their swords now, and our pace slackened, so that I was able to hobble along on my own now. Hasan and Ania kept me between them; it seemed a bit silly, considering my abilities, but I was no warrior and was more than happy to let them act as bodyguards.

We walked for what felt like nearly an hour, though it could have been longer—or shorter. It was so hard to judge the passage of time, down here in the dark and the damp. I was close to asking Ania if she was absolutely certain that this was the passage the other three had chosen, when the hallway abruptly opened up before us.

This time, instead of an immense room, it was a cavern. I don’t think I’d ever been in such a wide open space before; I could scarcely make out the ceiling, it was so immeasurably far above our heads. The walls of the cavern stretched out to the right and left of us, and before us, a sort of deep canyon split the floor in two. I could hear running water far below, which was a strange surprise—we were far off the beaten path of our map, after all. A narrow, stone bridge stretched across the canyon, connecting the two sides of the cavern. Past the bridge and the canyon, I could barely make out the far wall—or the two figures sitting down, leaning against it.

I blinked.

“Is that…?”

“Father!” said Ania. “And Uncle!”

I started running. My ankle hurt, but the urge to be beside my husband, after I’d foolishly gotten myself separated from him, was too strong. I had been an idiot; after everything we’d both been through, especially after everything _he’d_ been through, I’d put our entire mission in jeopardy. I wanted nothing more than to throw my arms around him, bury myself in his solid warmth, and beg him for forgiveness.

“Casien, wait!”

Hasan’s voice echoed through the air of the immense cavern, but I ignored it. I at least slowed down on the bridge somewhat, for there were no railings, and the river, though I could hear it rushing below my feet, was so far down it was virtually invisible.

A sudden feeling of trepidation washed over me, causing the hair on my arms and the back of my neck to rise.

I paused in the middle of the bridge. I could hear Ania and Hasan now running after me. But I had eyes only for my husband, who I could now see was sitting, not upright, but slumped against the wall. He seemed to have something partially covering his face, too. Beside him, Galmar, seeing me, appeared to struggle to stand, as though his feet and arms were bound. He, too, had something over the lower half of his face, and thus did not call out to me, though his motions were frantic.

_Oh_ , I thought, and my first initial feeling, when the Thalmor suddenly appeared standing on the far side of the bridge, wasn’t fear or anger, but embarrassment.

Illusion magic. When was I ever going to learn that mages approach the art of battle differently? Studying for a year and a half at the college hadn’t seemed to drill that into me yet. Perhaps I simply spent far too much time around Nords.

Standing in the center and at the head of the group of Thalmor was a familiar face: Melaran.

He didn’t address me. He didn’t grandstand or fling insults at me. He simply stepped forward, his expression as calm as I remembered it ever being, and brought his hand up towards me.

I brought my ward up, expecting either a fireball or ice spikes; not many mages could master lightning, but I supposed Melaran was likely one of them. Yet the spell that hit my ward was none of these. Oh, it was ice—but it was a continuous influx of frozen air, pummeling my ward and sending me half-stumbling back on my weak ankle.

My ward began to crack. I pressed my lips together, squared my shoulders, and focused. My wedding ring pulsed with warmth; my ward reassembled itself—and held.

For a time, at least. I was good at making wards and barriers, but they had never been my strongest spells. And I had only come up against a mage of Melaran’s caliber once in my life, and even then, I’d had friends to help me, not to mention my own, barely contained wild magic.

Behind me, I could hear steel clashing against steel, voices crying out in agony. Ania and Hasan were still behind me; the Thalmor had cornered us on the bridge. But I couldn’t worry about them now.

Melaran’s steady stream of raw ice magic was as relentless and unchanging as the calm expression on his face.

My ward began to crack anew.

The Thalmor on either side of him seemed content to simply stand there and allow him to finish me off. Somehow, this made me more angry than frightened. I never liked to be underestimated, and frankly, people had been underestimating me my entire life.

Except my husband, of course. And, occasionally, my friends.

And Nelacar, who had told me I was a master of destruction magic—whether I chose to acknowledge it or not.

Perhaps it was time to finally acknowledge it.

In one fluid motion, I dropped my ward with one hand before swinging my other hand forward, letting out a stream of red hot flames. The flame spell met the ice spell in mid-air, the two sizzling in that strange, arcane way that magicka does when it meets itself in battle, though it’s usually destruction spell against ward spell, not destruction against destruction. I ground my teeth together and _pushed_ forward, leaning into my own spell, bidding the flames to grow hotter and hotter, the color shifting to orange, then yellow—flecks of blue even leapt out here and there; the stream of magicka between us grew wider and more chaotic, frost and flame now as wide as the bridge itself.

Somehow, through it all, I could see Melaran’s expression finally shift.

The mages beside him began to take action. They hurled spells at me, as well, but I flicked them aside with my other hand. I poured more and more magicka into the flame spell, could feel it draining out of me—realized, belatedly that this was Melaran’s work. _He was dual-casting_. Even as he threw destruction magic at me, he was simultaneously draining the magicka from within me, sucking it out faster than I myself could even use it. I had heard of such spells, but never felt the impact of one; they were not regularly practiced at the college, as few mages could master them, and certainly they were never used on students.

And I suppose on most mages such a spell would have been devastating. Once drained of magicka, a mage is next to useless. If they overextend themselves, they can even pass out, become ill—or die.

But I didn’t have to rely solely on the magicka inside me. I had wild magic.

_Magicka is all around us_ , Professor Tolfdir had once told me. And so it was. It was _inside_ us, whether we were capable of accessing it or not. It was in the animals and the trees, the water, the air, the earth.

_This is wild magic_ , Professor Faralda had said, her hands resting on my shoulders as she turned me to face the rest of the class. I was different, she’d explained. I was _dangerous_.

I opened myself to the magicka I could feel hovering, living, _breathing_ all around me. I pulled it from the stone beneath my feet, from the water far below me, from the very air around me. I pulled it deep inside of me, then pushed it out through my outstretched hand, filtering and refining it through the silver and black ring my husband had placed on my finger over four years ago.

My flames burned so hot they turned white.

For the first time, Melaran took a stumbling step back.

I began to walk forward. My body became a sieve, funneling the wild magicka through me and outward towards my enemy. My hand before me glowed, and my vision turned fuzzy.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a small, familiar figure dart out from the shadows and come to crouch beside Galmar and the king.

I kept going. My flames began to engulf the ice spell completely. Melaran looked panicked now. The other mages threw frantic spells my way, but my flame spell consumed them. My body shook; I don’t think it was meant to house so much magicka, but I pressed onward—until Melaran was only a few feet away.

The sounds of battle behind me had dimmed, but now they arose before me as well. Galmar, back on his feet, my husband somehow miraculously awakened, beside him, both of them with swords drawn, rushing the startled, frightened Thalmor mages.

Before Melaran could turn and flee, my flames consumed him. They swept over and through him, singing the hair and clothes from his body, causing the skin to melt the next second, then the muscle and bone, all in a matter of seconds. And I was suddenly too tired to be nauseated by it—suddenly too tired to keep my feet under me.

I felt my body just collapse, almost as though I were observing the event from far away. Before I hit the ground, a familiar pair of arms grabbed hold of me, pulling me towards that same solid warmth I had longed for earlier. His own knees hit the ground, and I lay over him, too exhausted to keep my head up, so he held me in the crook of his elbow, his anxious face gazing down into mine.

“Casien,” he breathed, and the fear in his face and voice nearly took my breath away.

‘Nearly’ because I’m not sure I really had any breath left in me.

I smiled up at him, or tried to.

“No,” he said, and then he began to confuse me, for tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. “No!”—his voice rising yet breaking. I felt his arms around me tighten, fingertips gripping and pinching into my arm and hip. And yet I could barely feel them.

“It’s the wild magic,” said Eleanor—I heard yet couldn’t see her. “He has no more magicka left inside him…”

“Is he dying?”

Ania, sounding—afraid.

My husband was weeping now. I didn’t wish that he should weep, yet I didn’t know how I might soothe him. Their voices held me like a tether, some speaking frantically and fearfully, others in soft, quiet agony. The thought brushed against me like the soft fur of my cat’s tail tickling against my face: Ania was right. I was dying.

“Put your hands on him,” said Eleanor. “All of us, together. Casien—Casien!”

I was no longer in my body. My spirit—whatever it might have been, my essence, my soul, that piece of me that Nelacar had sent to rescue the man I loved—it hovered, unsure, intrigued by the intensity of my friend’s command.

“Pull from us!” She said. “The same way you did during the fight. You pulled magicka from the air and the rock, didn’t you? That’s what the professors taught you to do! But you can pull it from us, too. Do it! Do it, Casien!”

What did she mean? What fight? It seemed to tug so dimly at my memory now, that ungodly sensation of raw magicka flowing through me, of Melaran’s face twisting, first in shock and fear, then in agony. Yet I had done it, hadn’t I? I had killed him.

It was right that I had killed him, for he would have killed the person dearest to me. No, worse than killed him. Forced him to exist as a shell of himself, his mind all but gone, his body a prison.

Was I meant to die for this?

I did as the voice commanded me to do. I guess I’ve always been the type to obey the orders that people give me. I don’t like to cause trouble, don’t like to expose myself to the notice of those more powerful than myself. But this wasn’t someone who wanted to control me, to use or abuse me. This person was someone I could trust, I felt certain of it.

I felt the warm hands all pressing against my body—warm because I was pulling the magicka from them, magicka none of them had ever been able to access before. They were quite full of it; I let it soak into my skin and bones, fill me up until it pulsed out from within me, made me open my eyes and gasp, breathing in the cold, damp air of the cavern once again.

My family cheered. I heard Ania and Hasan and Eleanor laughing, and even Galmar let out a great big roar of relief.

And my husband—he still wept, but now he held me so tightly up against him, and his chest shook, from joy, I think—yes, he was laughing as well, laughter tinged with sobs that racked his strong body, made him sway as he held me, his face pressed against my own.

I smiled and gazed up at him.

“Hello,” I said.

He laughed and released me long enough with one hand to wipe the back of it against his face.

“Hello,” he replied.

I could stare at his face forever. The way his blue eyes crinkled at the corners, how his large nose split his handsome face in two, how his untrimmed beard covered his pale cheeks, his lips curving up into a rare smile. I sighed, overcome with the depths of my feelings for him.

“I’m really so in love with you,” I said, still smiling, and I heard the others now laughing, but he only held me and smiled back.

He moved one hand to cup my face, fingers stroking my cheek before sliding through my hair. I closed my eyes and sighed, turning my face so I could bury it in his chest the way I’d been wanting to.

“Will he be all right?” I felt his voice rumbling through both our bodies.

“Yes,” said Eleanor, her own voice still tinged with giddy, happy relief. “He’s just exhausted. He needs to rest.”

I felt his lips come to press against my forehead; I could feel them smiling against my skin, still damp from his tears.

“Then let him rest.”

 

//

 

A/N: Hello, everyone! I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and staying with Casien and his story for all this time ❤ A few of you might have noticed that the word "Final" in the title of this book has been changed to "Third." Hmm... what could that possibly mean? 😊

In any case, I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday (whatever holiday you may be celebrating), and Ulfric and Casien both would like to offer you season's greetings...

 


	24. Chapter 24

It was some time before I came to again.

The others had constructed an impromptu camp while I had slept, as far away from the bodies of the Thalmor as possible. As disturbing as it was to try and sleep while the bodies of your fallen enemies lay within visual range, there hadn’t been much they could do about it: everyone had been too exhausted to travel any further. I had, after all, taken a great deal of magicka from them, if only so my own body could go on living. Even with my enchanted wedding ring, my control was still shakier than most.

“It’s a bit like losing blood,” Eleanor explained as she leaned forward to toss more wood into the fire—they’d built up a cheerful little fire for us to all gather around, and I could only assume the fuel they’d gathered had been taken from the supplies of our fallen enemies.

“More than a bit,” grumbled Ania. “I’ve practically bled out and didn’t feel as shitty as that.”

“It was for a good cause,” said Hasan, smiling at me.

I smiled back. To say I was grateful would have been the understatement of a lifetime.

“It’ll replenish,” said Eleanor, rolling her eyes. “It already has. It’s been, what, several hours?”

“Hard to say, down here,” said Hasan, eyeing the immense cavern we were still in.

We four were the only ones awake now, for Ania, Hasan, and Eleanor had been allowed to sleep along with me. Galmar and Ulfric wanted to move on once I’d finally awakened, but we managed to encourage the both of them to get some rest themselves. Galmar currently lay snoring lightly a few feet away from us, clearly dead to the world—testament to how much this entire journey had taxed even his great reserves of fortitude and strength. Meanwhile, my husband lay asleep, his head in my lap. Every now and then, I couldn’t resist running my fingers through his hair as I gazed down at his sleeping face. He never so much as stirred.

“The good news is,” said Eleanor, peering down at her ever present map, “I think that’s Kemelzthen below us. Which _means_ we must have reached Almzchend.”

“Actually, I think we may be on an offshoot of the main road,” said Hasan. “See?” He pointed down at the map, presumably at our present location. “We seem to be somewhere over here. So we should be able to access the main road pretty soon.”

Eleanor gave him an irritated look, though he was fortunately still gazing down at the map.

“Maybe,” she said with a little huff. “It’s hard to say.”

“The Map Queen is dead,” said Ania. “All hail the Map King.”

Hasan looked up in alarm, glancing first at Ania, then at Eleanor.

“I mean—I could be wrong!” he said. “It’s just, the size of this cavern, it—it corresponds with the notes the researchers made about the river being in a canyon before reaching the main road.”

“I’m not the _map queen_ ,” said Eleanor, ignoring him. “Why do you always have to pick on me?”

Ania shrugged. “Guess you just make it so easy.”

“Ania,” said Hasan, frowning.

“Maybe I’m just trying to actually be useful,” snapped Eleanor. “Did you ever think of that? Maybe I’m not a king or a queen or a general, but Casien asked me to come on this journey, too, and I’ve been doing my damnedest to pull my own weight around here. Even if that just means reading _maps_.”

“And now you can’t even do that,” said Ania.

“Ania _, stop it_!!”

She looked at me in surprise—but Eleanor’s chin had actually started shaking, and she was biting her lip, her eyes cast down at the now abandoned map in her hands. Beside her, Hasan looked terribly unsure of what to do; he lifted a hand as if to place it on her shoulder, but didn’t. Ania finally seemed to realize what she’d been doing and looked down, her cheeks slowly turning pink.

“I…” I blinked, and swallowed, feeling my own face start to warm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just… we’re all we’ve got right now. It just seems like the last thing we need to be doing right now is pick on each other.”

“No,” said Ania, surprising me. “You’re right.”

“You _agree_ with him?” said Eleanor, and now she looked like she was going to cry even more.

Ania sighed and made a face—which is about when I realized Eleanor wasn’t the only one who was feeling more than a little upset.

“Of course I agree with him,” she said. “I just can’t seem to help it. I mean, it wasn’t so bad during the war. Hell, it was _war_. There wasn’t time to think about much else. But seeing you and Uncle together again…” She looked at me. “I’m _happy_ , obviously, I think I just…”

“You miss Hellina,” I said softly.

She nodded.

“Yeah. I do. And he misses Una, and she misses that hot girlfriend of hers. And Father misses Mother, even if he won’t admit it.”

We were all silent for a moment. I could hear the distant roar of the river down below. I gazed down at my husband’s sleeping face, my fingers now gently brushing over his cheek and temple.

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally said. “I know I’ve been lucky.”

“You don’t have to say a damn thing,” said Ania. “We can’t help how we feel, but it’s not your fault. And don’t you think I’m glad we’ve got Uncle back in one piece?”

“And you’ve suffered enough,” said Hasan. “The journey here—you were like a ghost. I was more than a little worried about you.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be so sensitive,” said Eleanor. She bit her lip again, but at least didn’t look as though she might burst into tears anymore.

“You’re fine,” said Ania. “I’ve been an ass. Sorry.” She sighed, heavily, and leaned back on her hands, her head lolling back. “ _Goooods_ I miss my wife.”

“Same,” said Hasan, a wistful look in his eyes.

“The things she can do with that tongue of hers…”

Hasan sighed. “Aaand she went too far again.”

Ania stuck her tongue out, head still lolling back, and gave it a little wiggle. Eleanor blushed but started laughing, and I couldn’t help laughing, too.

“Don’t talk about your wife like that,” I chided, making her snort.

“Don’t make _him_ tell us what your uncle can do with _his_ tongue,” said Hasan.

Ania made a gagging sound, and I groaned and hid my face in my hands. The laughter of the other two finally woke my husband—though all he did was gaze up at me through half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Good morning,” I said, smiling cheekily down at him as I resumed stroking his hair.

“Mm.” He was silent, his eyes sliding closed again, before asking: “Is Galmar awake?”

I knew the others could hear him; they were gazing over at us with fond little smiles on their faces. I smiled back before glancing over at Galmar, who hadn’t so much as moved.

“No,” I said, “I don’t think so.” I waited for him to respond, and when he didn’t: “You can go back to sleep, if you like.”

“I think he already has,” said Ania, snorting softly.

“What did the Thalmor do to them?” asked Hasan, keeping his voice low.

Eleanor shook her head.

“I’m not sure. I was—well, uh, I had to pee. While I was busy, they were ambushed. I’m pretty sure the Thalmor didn’t know I was with them; they came at us from a different direction. These tunnels all seem to intersect.”

“Some kind of big junction,” said Hasan. “Maybe means we’re arriving at some sort of central hub.”

She nodded. “I think so, too. Anyway, they marched them both back to this cavern. I followed behind, as quietly as I could. So far as I could tell, they’d tied them both up, but the jarl was out cold. I don’t know if they used magic or something else. But once the fighting started…” She shrugged. “I figured it was safe to run out and untie them.”

“That was really brave of you,” I said.

“I suppose. In any case, the jarl had come to again, so that was a relief. I doubt the Thalmor were expecting to be attacked from behind. Not that you didn’t look like you had everything under control.”

I shuddered, taking a quick, deep breath.

“I never want to do that again,” I said. “It was—I mean, I’m not sorry, I just—” I cleared my throat. “Well, it’s done, but I don’t ever want to have to do something like that again.”

“They did this,” said Ania. “Not us. They took someone we love, and they forced us to do whatever we had to do to save him.”

“Exactly,” agreed Hasan. “It isn’t your fault. Melaran would have killed you. You getting him first was the _only_ thing that could have thwarted his plans.”

“I guess so.” I frowned down at the face of my sleeping husband. “Still.”

Galmar and Ulfric slept for what felt like another hour at least. When they finally awoke, they, along with Hasan and Ania, rifled through the Thalmors’ belongings once more while Eleanor and I did our best to put out the fire. We set off once more, our hearts perhaps a bit lighter than they had been for many weeks: our enemies were finally all dead, and there was nothing between us and home save a few more weeks of travel, and perhaps whatever else fate saw fit to throw at us. My ankle wasn’t badly damaged, but it was still sore, and I had the distinct pleasure of riding on my husband’s back the rest of that first day of travel, arms wrapped loosely around his neck, legs around his waist. I’m sure it tired him, but he insisted on it.

We traveled for several more days, and encountered only a few more automatons—never a large group of them, and nothing the warriors in our party couldn’t handle. We remained wary of Falmer, but were fortunate not to encounter them. I wasn’t sure how sentient they truly were, if they had some form of rudimentary communication—if so, perhaps they had learned of what had become of their brethren and knew that we were not a party to be trifled with.

Eleanor’s map—or, I suppose I ought to say Nelacar’s map—or rather, the one belonging to the university in Jehanna—continued to be a godsend, and she and Hasan put their heads together and eventually managed to redirect us to the main thoroughfare: Almzchend. The path became a sort of road then, wide enough for the six of us to walk abreast. Greenish-gold lights continued to light the way above our heads, and we began to encounter large structures, buildings, I suppose, but also small squares with what must have been homes scattered about—Dwemer villages, once upon a time. We spent the night—or, well, we slept—in some of them, for they were quite cozy and easy to guard.

At least twice my husband and I were able to sleep alone together. And yet he continued to sleep chastely beside me as if the others were still present. I don’t know why, but I felt too nervous to initiate anything myself. Not that I was nervous around _him_. But there had to have been some reason why he abstained from being intimate with me, and I suppose, after everything we’d been through, I was too reluctant to force the issue.

And then, finally, we found the river.

“Clean hair, here I come,” said Eleanor, as we all stood on the bank of the rushing river and gazed wistfully out at the no doubt freezing cold waters.

“I sure hope there are fish in there,” said Hasan. “We’re running dangerously low on food.”

“I can’t go fishing in this, by the way,” I said. “The water’s too dark.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ania, “Father knows how to fish.”

Galmar’s only response was to give a short sort of huff, but as he didn’t deny it, I decided not to worry. Besides, there had actually been fishing gear stocked in the supply chests outside the ruins, and I’d noticed him and Ulfric both selecting from the stash. If there _were_ fish in these waters, we hopefully wouldn’t have any trouble catching them.

We took turns bathing in the river. We went in pairs, as usual. The girls went first—they’d both been braiding their long hair for some time now and I think were thus in direst need of a bit of soap and water. Ulfric and I were next.

“So cold!” I cried, as we waded into the water—we’d found a shallower, less turbulent part of the river to do our bathing and fishing in. I don’t know why or how, but it was somehow _more_ painful to creep in bit by bit than to jump in all at once, as I had when I’d gone fishing. “Is this what water that never sees the sun feels like?”

“Come,” he said, giving my hand a tug. “The faster we bathe, the faster it will be over.”

Soap had been yet another item we’d relieved the Thalmor of—they certainly knew how to travel well—and I scrubbed the bar I’d been given as quickly and vigorously over myself as I possibly could. He told me to turn around and quickly scrubbed my back, then I asked him to do the same.

“Cold, cold, cold,” I complained, as we both lowered ourselves deeper into the water and splashed the soap off our skin.

“Come here,” he said, cupping a cold, wet hand behind my neck and pulling me closer.

He kissed me, and I stilled, surprised, cold, confused—then he opened his lips against mine and my heart gave a little skip, and I tilted my head, and let him deepen the kiss.

“A little warmer?” he asked, humor dancing in his eyes.

“A little,” I agreed.

“Good. Now think of me kissing you while you wash your hair.”

I groaned but reluctantly held my breath and lowered my head fully into the water, finally wetting my hair. It was awful: cold, wet tendrils drip-dripping against the already freezing cold skin of my back and neck.

“I’ll never be warm again!” I said, as we hurried back on shore and huddled under our blankets around the fire. Behind us, I could hear Hasan and Galmar now hastily entering the water.

“I’m n-not sure it was w-worth it,” said Eleanor, shivering visibly under her own blanket.

“No fair,” said Ania, pouting at me when her uncle put his arm around me and pulled me close so that we might share body heat. I stuck my tongue out at her.

Once we all managed to warm up, we got dressed again, then Galmar and Ulfric tried their hand at fishing while Eleanor and I washed and then laid out the rest of our spare clothing to dry. Ania and Hasan left to try and gather more fuel for the fire.

Before long, we were all seated back around the fire, nibbling on freshly caught, freshly cooked fish of indeterminate species. It felt like one of the first evenings we could finally allow ourselves to relax: we were clean, our bellies were full, and the building we’d chosen to bed down in for the night was safe and secure (or so they all assured me and Eleanor). Once I finished eating, I probably made the others all sick to their stomach by crawling into my husband’s lap and curling myself up so I could lean against his chest with a deep, happy sigh. He obliged me by wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling the back of my head with his cheek.

“All right, gonna go barf,” said Ania.

“Knew you’d say that,” I said, not opening my eyes.

“Looking at you two somehow makes me feel colder,” said Hasan.

“Oh,” said Eleanor suddenly, “I almost forgot. You were asking me about the date?” I had no idea who it was she was addressing, but as I knew she wasn’t talking to me, I still didn’t bother opening my eyes. “I checked, and my best estimate would probably be around the first week of Mid Year. I mean, it’s hard to judge with no sun, or moons or stars for that matter, but assuming we entered this place, unless I’m mistaken, on the first of Mid Year, I’d say no more than a week has passed since then.”

Her words had washed sort of drowsily over me—until I heard those five little words.

“The first of Mid Year?” I asked, suddenly lifting my head and staring at her.

Behind me, I heard—and felt—Ulfric sigh.

“Oh shit,” said Eleanor, her eyes widening. “This was about him, wasn’t it.”

“About who?” I asked. “Me?”

“Okay,” said Ania, “what the hell’s going on.”

“The first of Mid Year is my birthday,” I said. “But I guess it’s already passed…” I turned, shifting so that I could face my husband. “You wanted to know if my birthday had passed?”

“I did,” he said.

I blinked at him, confused.

“But why?”

A smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth, his expression softening.

“Perhaps so I might wish you a happy birthday,” he said, though I could tell from his voice that he was teasing, however gently.

“Aw,” said Hasan. “Happy birthday, Casien.”

“Belated birthday, it sounds like,” said Ania.

“How does it feel to be 25?” asked Eleanor.

I sighed, and leaned back against my husband, letting my eyes slide closed again.

“Better than most of 24,” I said.

“Imagine missing a whole year of someone you love,” mused Eleanor.

“I’m sure they appreciate you pointing that out,” said Ania.

“Oh, right.” She laughed. “Sorry.”

“I should not like to repeat such a year,” murmured Ulfric, his hand now gently, perhaps absently, rubbing my back.

“Aye, and neither would I,” said Galmar, who I’d thought had fallen asleep. “I’ve had enough sad puppy eyes and moping to last me a lifetime.”

This naturally set the others off laughing, and for once Ulfric looked neither annoyed or embarrassed. I think we were both too comfortable and happy at present to be bothered by the teasing of others. I was charmed that he had thought to ask about my birthday, when I hadn’t even remembered it myself. I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, and in light of all that had happened, it hadn’t seemed all that important.

That night, the two of us were afforded a cozy little room of our own. Despite my earlier happiness, I felt trepidation crawling up my spine as we prepared for bed. I knew the others all likely assumed we had been doing more than lying innocently beside one another each time we’d gotten a chance to be alone. I wondered what they all would have thought had they known the truth.

“Wait,” I said, before he could lie down—the signal for me to then lie down next to him, and cuddle up against him.

He paused, halfway between sitting and lying down. After a moment, he sat up again, his brow arching curiously at me.

I swallowed. The word had rather slipped out of me before I could stop it.

But I supposed I was tired of not understanding what was happening—or rather, _not_ happening—between us.

And frankly, I—well, I missed him. Like _that_.

I took a deep breath before scooting closer, so that we both sat on our bedrolls facing one another. He seemed surprised when I took his hands in my mind, but he said nothing.

“I… wanted to ask you something,” I finally said.

“…Yes?” he prompted after a moment, when I didn’t go on.

I took another deep breath, pressing my lips together for a moment, then:

“Why don’t you want to touch me. Be with me,” I amended hastily, blushing at my original melodramatic choice of words. “I mean—you know.”

 _Lie with me_. I blushed further, but I couldn’t say it. Even after several years of marriage, actually, sincerely talking about sex with him was still, well… embarrassing.

Yet he didn’t tease me for this, the way he often had in the past.

Instead, his gaze seemed to drop, as though he found it difficult to hold my eyes with his own. His hands squeezed mine, and his thumbs rubbed gently over my knuckles.

“Casien,” he finally said, his voice low and heavy. It made my heart thrum in my chest, but I ached, too, for he sounded in such pain. “Being with you is a privilege that I do not and have never taken lightly.”

“Then… why?” I didn’t think I needed to fully voice the question.

He was silent again for a moment, then:

“I cannot move past it. What was done to you. What _I_ did to you.”

I was baffled at first, but when I realized to what he was referring, I almost started crying. This? _Still_?

“But we talked about this,” I said, hearing the anxious worry in my own voice. “I told you, it wasn’t your fault. And I’m not afraid of you, I’m _not_. I know that wasn’t really you, or—I know you didn’t realize I was _me_.”

“Yes,” he said, pulling a hand free so that he could lay it over both of mine, as if he were trying to comfort me. “I know. Yet still I cannot help the thought that lingers in my mind: suppose my delusions should return. Suppose in the act of making love, I should be brought back to that wretched state again. And suppose, having you with me again, it should ignite something horrible in me, something I could not—

But I pulled my own hand free and laid it hastily over his mouth, silencing him. He made no move to push my hand away, only looked at me, his eyes sad.

“Don’t,” I said, and I realized I was crying now, sniffing and using my other hand to swipe at the back of my eyes, to stop the evidence from making its appearance. “Don’t say that. Melaran is dead. The Thalmor are all dead. Whoever cast that spell, they’re _dead_. They can’t hurt us anymore.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, we _do_ ,” I insisted, and I’m certain my face looked quite ugly by then. “So, what then? We just stop? We never have sex again? Is that what you want?”

“No…” He looked stricken—it made me feel awful. “Of course not. But I…”

“Make love to me,” I said. I crawled forward, into his lap, wrapping my legs loosely around him. “Please. I miss you. I thought about you, every day and every night, for an entire year. And then you weren’t there when I returned home, and all I could do was think about you again, and…”

I trailed off, a little too embarrassed, even despite my earnestness, to admit to touching myself.

A lot. I had really, _really_ missed him.

His gaze was warm now, and I think he knew what I had almost said. He wrapped his arms around me, and I pressed myself against him a little, and he let out a startled little breath that I’m almost certain was very nearly a moan.

“You aren’t worried about being heard,” he said, lips twitching now, as he reached up to cup my cheek. “My little roebuck has lost all his shyness.”

“I highly doubt that,” I said. “But they all think we’ve been doing it every night anyway…” I paused, resting my hand over his now, linking our fingers together. “ _Whether through hardship, poor health, broken trust, or sorrow of any kind_. It’s in our vows, Ulfric. I said ‘yes,’ and I meant it. It does neither of us any good to wait for something terrible that may never happen.”

His eyes widened when I said this, and I think, somehow, I finally got through to him. His expression softened once again, and he rubbed his thumb gently against my cheek, the gesture a caress.

“My heart,” he murmured, another little smile creeping onto his face. “wiser than any Greybeard.”

“Because I want to have sex with you?” I asked. “I agree. Only an idiot wouldn’t want that.”

He laughed, loud enough, I’m sure, to be heard by the others. But then he looked at me, his expression turning almost cheeky. He hesitated for only a moment more—before finally tilting his face towards mine, nuzzling his nose again my own before brushing our lips together. I sought him out, reaching eagerly for him—he pulled away, smiling, teasing me, even as he shifted so that we could lie down together.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, pressing the words softly against my ear with a kiss, once we were both naked and, despite everything, doing our best to keep quiet.

I smiled, and wrapped my arms around him, and muffled my joy and my pleasure against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I hope you all had a lovely holiday if you celebrated ❤ Happy belated Saturalia 🙂
> 
> So my New Year's Resolution is to take better care of myself as a writer. With the understanding that this series is, in fact, NOT drawing to a close, I've had to consider whether it's possible for me to continue forcing myself to update every two weeks, no matter what. The answer is "no." Now, that doesn't mean that I probably WON'T continue updating at least every two weeks, but if I can't make it, I'm not gong to beat myself up about it, nor force myself to write for five hours on the due date, causing me to neglect everything else in my life. 
> 
> I never intended for my silly story to become a whole book, and then two books, and then a trilogy, and now a whole series!! 😅 So, basically, if I'm a day or so late updating, don't panic. It just means I'm going easier on myself... which means even better storytelling in the long run!
> 
> Oh yes, and those of you who use Discord, don't forget that Casien has his own server! (It's mostly for story updates, but we can chat, too!) The link shouldn't expire; let me know if it does!
> 
> https://discord.gg/36FZ87F


	25. Chapter 25

After at least a week of travel, our way forward became more complicated. The original map that Eleanor had been using, the one that had been constructed and used most by recent expeditioners, was becoming obsolete, for few explorers had traveled this deep into the ruins. We began to piece other, older maps together, and to look for context clues that might tell us which road was the main road.

“I’m 100% positive this says ‘Almzchend’,” said Eleanor, as we both stood before a large stone sign embedded into the wall before us.

The strange characters were faded but still faintly legible. The Dwemer seemed fond of imbedding their street signs and other symbols directly into the stone, and I supposed this had helped them last for as long as they had. But in this instance, there was just one little problem.

“Half of it’s missing,” I said, reaching up to absently trace my fingers over the ancient lettering. “ _Chend_ means ‘path’ or ‘road,’ right? But this could be any road.”

“Notice the flooring,” said Hasan, coming up behind us. “It’s the same pattern as before, and it’s the only one that continues in this direction.”

“Ha!” said Eleanor, sticking her tongue out at me.

“That’s _totally_ irrelevant to the point you were trying to make,” I said, rolling my eyes, but then my husband came and took my hand and pulled me gently forward with him as we continued down the path.

He always led the way, but lately, instead of insisting that I remain several steps behind him, he allowed me to walk alongside him. He remained alert, his eyes always on the path ahead, but he was relaxed enough to listen to me when I wanted to talk, and occasionally even offered a response in kind—he was never one for conversation, unless I specifically asked him something, but he always liked listening to me.

“It almost feels like we’re the head researchers of some great expedition,” I said, feeling chipper as we continued to lead the way through the ruins. “The scholar king and his prince… Or consort, I suppose. It’s rather odd, now that I think about it, that Skyrim has no name for the spouse of a jarl.”

Then again, I rather liked having no particular title—people acted strangely enough around me as it was, after I was married. Folk who might have sneered at me or ignored me completely now paused to smile and bow at me as I passed, and it had taken an awfully long time to grow used to being addressed as ‘my lord.’

“It sort of reminds me of a novel I read,” I continued, “The one with the Redguard princess and her lover. Have you read it?”

“I don’t believe I have,” he said, in that absent tone of voice he sometimes used when we were talking and he was busy. As I supposed he was now, maintaining his constant vigilance of our surroundings, as presumably did the other warriors in our party. “Perhaps you may read it to me once we are home.”

“Only if you promise to come upstairs after dinner and _not_ return to your office. Anyway, she goes on this adventure to find this ancient, magical sword, so she gathers a group of adventurers together, including her lover, who’s this dashing corsair, only he’s also a mage. And she’s this great warrior, too, like she would enter the tournaments back home and no one would know it was her until she pulled off her helmet.

“So they’re adventuring through these ruins and encounter all sorts of dangerous monsters and traps and the like. Though I suppose it’s not a perfect match, seeing as how I can barely handle a sword.”

“That is hardly true.”

“No, I suppose not. But I’m not a fighter like you or Galmar or the others. I don’t even like using magic in battle.” I was silent for a moment, a curious thought coming to mind. “Do you think that’s because I’m Dunmer? But I suppose there are fighters among us. A whole House even. But I wouldn’t say it’s embedded in our culture the way it seems to be for Nords.”

“We are a culture that glorifies the art of war. Even so, there is no honor in a fight without cause.”

“But I suppose you could turn almost anything into a cause, if it suited your overarching purpose.”

“True enough.”

We walked in silence for a while; I could hear the others talking amongst themselves some ways behind us—they seemed to have lagged behind for some reason or other. After a moment, I looked up at him, studying his features in the dim lighting. He caught me looking, and arched an eyebrow at me.

“Wouldn’t it be fun?” I said, smiling a little. “If no one knew who we were. Like the princess in the tournament. We could travel all over Nirn and have fantastic adventures together.”

He actually laughed, the sound echoing gently against the heavy, stone walls.

“I believe I have had enough ‘adventure’ to last me a lifetime.” He cast me a faint, teasing little smile. “And you would miss your books, and your sweet-smelling baths, and your warm bed.”

“ _Our_ warm bed,” I corrected. I took his hand, swinging it between us now as we walked. He didn’t seem to mind. “And you’re right. But it’s still fun to think about.”

If our ease and closeness caused the others to roll their eyes at us on occasion, well, it was a small price to pay for being by his side again. In many ways, it felt as if our relationship had grown even beyond what it had been before this terrible adventure. I felt as though he were, in some ways, more relaxed around me, more willing to speak his mind and admit his fears to me. True, I still had to prod him a little, and I only did so when we were alone. But he no longer hesitated when I asked him what he was thinking, how he felt about something, or even to discuss something from his past. Of course, I was cognizant of those things he truly didn’t wish to talk about, and I never pushed him to reveal things about himself that he wasn’t ready to reveal. I knew in my heart that he, in many ways, had always shown me the same courtesy. In the early months and even years of our relationship, I would often interpret his silence as disinterest. But since then, I had come to see it as patience, kindness—and love.

Eventually, it became evident that we would have to leave the river behind. Since we had discovered it, it had always been close by, running almost parallel at times with the main road. We even passed through what had once been a great city—perhaps the true Nzudelft of old—and the river had cut right through the middle, once elegant stone bridges half-crumbled to rubble stretching over it here and there. We had mined it as best we could, catching more than we could eat and preserving the leftovers. But we were rapidly running out of salt, and the food we’d collected from the enchanted chests outside Nzudelft’s doors was nearly gone. Towards the end of our journey through the mountains, I began to go to sleep hungry as well as thirsty, for we were forced to ration our water intake as well.

But finally, eventually, we came to the end.

Here our maps became useful again, for explorers had journeyed through the eastern portion of Nzudelft just as they had through the western portion—though perhaps not as much, as folk in Skyrim seemed less inclined to explore Dwemer ruins than their Breton neighbors. The doors clearly hadn’t been opened in some time, so Ulfric, Galmar, Ania, and Hasan all had to put their backs into it as they pushed and heaved the massive things open. When they did, sunlight spilled out, half-blinding us all, and the sweet rush of fresh summer air filled our senses.

“We’re home,” I said, shielding my eyes once they’d adjusted as I gazed up at the lovely blue sky.

I felt my husband’s hand come to rest on the back of my neck and smiled.

“Is this the Reach?” asked Eleanor. “It’s beautiful.”

“Aye, though we’re a fair bit north of Markath,” said Galmar, frowning as he gazed down at the rocky landscape before us. “Closer to Solitude, I’d say.”

“Does that mean we’ll not have to worry about encountering any Forsworn?” asked Hasan, shielding his own eyes as he gazed out at the splendid vista before us.

“Perhaps,” said Ulfric. “We will need to remain vigilant.”

“What’s it like to fight the Forsworn, Uncle?” asked Ania, and it always amazed me how she and others like her could express such excitement and eagerness at the thought of engaging another person in combat.

“Unpleasant,” came the mild reply. “We will do everything we can to not engage them.”

Once it was determined exactly in which direction we should travel, we set off. I think the intrinsic narrowness of the Dwemer ruins had really gotten to us, for we sort of spread out, more or less pairing up as we made our way carefully down the side of the low mountain we’d emerged from. Ania walked alongside her father; Eleanor and Hasan were laughing and chatting. I held my husband’s hand, letting him step before me at times, occasionally reaching up to help me down over a particularly steep bit of rock.

The grass was so long in places I could slide my palm over it without having to bend over. Hard dirt and dead grass crunched under our boots, and birds sang merrily from the tops of hardy trees clinging doggedly to the rock face. The wind pushed my hair back from my face, whipping at my clothing—a northern wind, but not so cold as it might have been a month ago.

“Do you remember when you took me up the hill, on the way to Whiterun, to show me the shrine to Azura?” I asked, smiling at the memory.

“Of course,” he replied. He didn’t smile or look at me, for he was busy scanning the horizon, but his voice was soft and warm.

“That’s what this sort of feels like,” I continued, running the palm of my free hand over the top of the grass again. “Just the two of us, together… I was so happy that you wanted to hold my hand, too. Isn’t that silly?”

He glanced at me, giving me a faint smile, his hand squeezing my own briefly.

“I thought maybe you didn’t wish to show me affection in front of the others,” I admitted. “In front of the soldiers, or anyone back home.”

“Never,” he said, surprising me.

He paused as we came to another steep drop, releasing my hand so he could lean down, bracing himself against the rock before dropping heavily down. He reached up, then, grasping me and helping me down. It was hard not to wrap my arms all the way around his neck and cling to him; instead, I forced myself to release him when he released me, though he of course reclaimed my hand again.

“I had little practice with being in love,” he continued. “I often overthought how I should speak or act. At times, I would throw myself into my work, convinced that Galmar was right, and that I had allowed myself to become consumed by thoughts of you, so that I began to neglect my duties.”

“…Was that true?” I asked, a little fearful of hearing the answer, though I wasn’t sure why.

“Yes, and no. Yes, you were forever on my mind, for I loved you as deeply as I do now, and as deeply as I ever have. But I did not abandon my duty to my people, and to the people of this land. Nor do I think that Galmar has ever suggested that I was in danger of doing so.”

“So what was his problem with me?” I asked, now feeling a bit rankled, despite the fact that the events he was referencing were now many years in the past.

“He had no problem with _you_ , dear heart. Only how little acquainted I was with being in love. I struggled, for example, to balance my reasonable concern for your safety with my intense, irrational fear that if _I_ did not protect you, then no one could. For now that I had found you, I knew that I could not lose you, and that if I _were_ to lose you, I should have no one to blame but myself.”

I was silent for a moment, turning his words over in my head. Always, it seemed, it came down to this great fear of loss he had been harboring in his heart for most of his life. In the end, I supposed it made sense that he had been riddled, overcome with fear of losing me, to the point where Galmar even recognized it and cautioned him for it.

“And now?” I eventually asked.

“You mean to ask if I still struggle with my tendency towards overprotectiveness—particularly in relation to yourself.”

When he looked at me, it was my turn to arch a brow back at him. He smiled ruefully.

“If anything, this journey has shown me how resourceful you’ve become, how brave, how strong. I never doubted that you were capable of caring for yourself, and for others, if necessary. But I…”

I glanced at him, seeing his jaw clenching briefly beneath his beard. I was close to reassuring him, telling him he didn’t have to talk about this if he didn’t wish to. But then…

“No,” he finally admitted. He swallowed, for his voice had become rough. “I realize it is a weakness of mine, and a dishonor to you, but I—

“It isn’t,” I said, interrupting him.

His eyes met mine, questioning, even as he helped me down another steep embankment. I landed lightly on my feet, facing him, one hand still in his, the other bracing myself against his chest. I looked to my left, seeing Galmar and Ania, Hasan and Eleanor, both still talking, oblivious to our own conversation.

I turned to face him again.

“Ulfric,” I said, my voice earnest, enough to make his brow furrow slightly. “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t think you respected me—if I didn’t think you honored me in every way, the same way I do you. So it’s okay if you’re a little overprotective. I mean,” I smiled a little, embarrassed, “I’m a little bit of a disaster sometimes, so it works out, doesn’t it?”

He snorted softly, and slid his free hand up the back of my neck, tilting my head forward so he could plant a kiss on my forehead.

“Fair enough,” he allowed. “But you must remember to yell at me the next time I attempt to issue you orders.”

I grinned. “Deal.”

We made camp early that day, well before the sun began to set. I think our internal clocks were a little bit off after spending so much time in the ruins, and we were all very tired. Some of the others went hunting, and we feasted on real meat that night, cooked over a proper wood-burning fire. A nearby stream allowed us to both refill our water skins and refresh our bodies as well. Even the ground was softer than the stone floors of Nzudelft, and I had little to complain of—other than, perhaps, the cold.

Ulfric and Galmar led us generally north, towards Solitude, and while it was nearing the height of summer, nights in the Reach, and eventually, Haafingar Hold, were still dreadfully cold. Our supplies had steadily dwindled; our clothing was thin and not necessarily made for traveling, and even with the cloaks we’d confiscated from the supply camp outside the High Rock entrance to Nzudelft, we could still feel the bite of Skyrim’s northerly winds. Nighttime was the most difficult. My husband and I had one another, but the others all slept separately, huddled under their cloaks and blankets in a circle around the fire.

We avoided the main road—well, in truth, we avoided _all roads_ , as well as even the smallest villages. Eleanor and I argued against this, for we dearly needed supplies—something to eat beside meat and the occasional wild tubers and mushrooms we encountered would have been nice—but Ulfric and Galmar both failed to capitulate. If there was even the faintest possibility of anyone recognizing their High King in his current state, it could potentially lead to political disaster. And we were not exactly in friendly territory; it had been a good four years since the moot, but not all the folk of Haafingar Hold agreed with the results—or the civil war, for that matter.

Eventually, we were, according to Galmar’s estimations, only a few days from Solitude itself.

What to do once we got there now became the chief topic of discussion.

“We’ll need to secure passage on a ship,” said Hasan, absently pulling at the newly sprouted hairs on his chin—I wondered what Una would think of this new look, then in the next second realized I already knew the answer: he’d be clean-shaven again before the sun rose on our first morning back in Windhelm.

“But the question is,” he continued, “How?”

“Solitude harbor’s huge,” said Ania, shrugging. “We left Windhelm in disguise, why not Solitude? It’s doable.”

“Not worth the risk,” said her father, “We get spotted in Solitude of all places—!” He shook his head, huffing under his breath.

“Couldn’t you just send a letter to Lady Lia?” asked Eleanor. “Then she could send a proper ship for us.”  
  
“There’d still be the matter of boarding it,” Hasan pointed out.

“And we haven’t the coin to send a letter by bird,” said Galmar. “It could take weeks. We’ve left Lia and the girls to run things on their own long enough.”

“Casien,” said Ulfric, startling me, “What are you thinking?”

I looked up from where I’d been gazing idly into the flames of the fire we’d built up, our eyes meeting. I could feel the others all looking at me; meanwhile, my husband waited patiently for me to respond.

I swallowed. I _had_ been thinking about something. But I was almost certain he wouldn’t like it.

“Lady Elisif,” I said.

His heavy brow furrowed, but the look he gave me was more surprised than doubtful.

“Elisif?” he repeated.

I nodded.

“If I go to her—I’m almost certain she would help us. Help _me_ at least.”

“And what makes you think that?” asked Galmar, his gruff voice suddenly harsh and full of suspicion—not against me, I knew, but I couldn’t help recalling that, after the war, he had advocated for her execution.

“Apart from the fact that I believe she cares about the well-being of Skyrim as much as we do, and would have no desire to see it plunge into political turmoil yet again?” I shrugged. “She—well, I think she feels like she owes me. I mean, _I_ don’t feel that way about what happened to the two of us, but I’m almost certain she does. She really thinks I saved her life, and on top of that, she thinks I did so even though I had no reason to like her or even care whether she lived or died.”

They were all silent for a moment. I’d evidently thrown them all for a loop with my suggestion.

“So you believe she’ll help _you_ ,” Eleanor finally said. “But would she help… him?” She nodded at my husband, who arched a brow back at her.

Now it was my turn to be silent. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure of my answer. I believed Elisif to be a decent, honorable woman. _She_ certainly believed she’d done the right thing in opposing Ulfric in the war. Yet I also knew her to be a victim of grief and anger. Under no circumstances did I hold that against her, but my own husband had nearly gone to war again when he’d briefly believed me dead. There was every reason to believe that Elisif, too, might act irrationally if given the chance.

Except she hadn’t, at least not yet. And the events that caused her such grief and bitterness were now years in the past. I didn’t doubt she still mourned her husband, but I couldn’t see her going against all reason to try and seek revenge against the man who had wronged her most.

“Yes,” I finally said. “I think she will.”

“And you are certain of this,” said Ulfric, still frowning at me.

“Not certain, no. But she wouldn’t do anything _against_ us, if that’s what you’re wondering. She’ll either agree to help us, or she won’t.”

“Too much of a risk,” said Galmar.

“Agreed,” said Ania.

Ulfric was quiet, fingers stroking at his beard now, which told me he was busy weighing his thoughts. I suddenly remembered him doing so the first time we’d met, and couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

“I disagree,” he finally said, and if he saw Ania roll her eyes, he chose not to say anything about it. “I trust Casien’s judgment, and if, in the end, Elisif chooses not to help us, then we are simply back where we started.”

“A fair point,” said Galmar, giving me a sidelong look. I flashed him a cheeky little smile.

“So what do we do?” asked Ania. “Just show up on her doorstep and beg for help? We don’t even know where she lives.”

“The palace, or nearby it?” suggested Hasan.

“We travel until we reach the city’s outskirts,” Ulfric said, “From there, the two of you,” he nodded towards the girls—who had actually struck up something of a friendship, much to my surprise and relief— “go into town and inquire into Elisif’s whereabouts.”

“Me?” said Eleanor, clearly surprised.

“You’re not worried about anyone recognizing me?” asked Ania. “Pretty sure Una and I were right alongside you and Father when we rode into Solitude.”

“You said you employed a disguise when you boarded the ship that left Windhelm,” he said, “I advise you do so again. As for you…”

His look softened when his eyes met Eleanor, and he even smiled a little.

“It is clear that you may indeed be the brightest, most resourceful one among us. Casien has regaled me with tales of your cleverness for years, and between yourself and Ania, I believe you both have the greatest chance at discovering the location of Elisif’s home.”

This naturally caused Eleanor to turn ten different shades of red, and I couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed myself.

“I don’t talk about her _that_ much,” I said, but he only chuckled and gave my knee a little pat.

“Once we have located Elisif,” he continued, “Hasan and Casien will approach her and beg her assistance.”

“I could do with a difference choice of words,” muttered Galmar.

“And yet ‘beggars’ is what we are,” said Ulfric. “At present, I do not see how we do this without outside help, so let us all pray that Casien’s faith in Elisif be returned to us tenfold.”

I slept fitfully that night, anxious that our way home now rode on a plan of my own devising. I was nervous for Eleanor and Ania, too, as well as for myself—at least I would have Hasan alongside me when I made the trip into the city.

We traveled for two more days before it became too difficult to avoid detection. We were surrounded by farmsteads and pastures at this point, and it was hard enough finding an out of the way location for our group to lie low in while the girls went into town. In the end, we settled on an abandoned barn, its roof half-collapsed, the door perpetually ajar. But it was shelter from the weather and the cold, and clearly well and truly abandoned, so we were unlikely to be disturbed.

“They’ll probably assume we’re bandits,” said Hasan, tossing a stick into the fire as he, Galmar, myself, and my husband spent our first night alone together. It was hard not to think about the girls, and not only whether or not they would be successful, but whether or not they were safe, too.

I shouldn’t have doubted them. Two days later, they returned; Ania even had a bag of fresh food and clothes slung over one shoulder.

“She won it playing cards,” said Eleanor, with clearly reluctant respect.

Ania stuck her tongue out at her before tossing her brother-in-law an apple, which he stared at in brief, wild joy before quickly taking a bite out of it.

I did the same with the one she tossed me, and soon we were all feasting on fruit and bread and cheese while the two of them told us what they’d learned.

“Turns out her ladyship isn’t even living in the city,” said Ania, pausing to take a swig of the only beer she’d brought back. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who’d stared greedily at the bottle as she’d popped it open.

“She lives in a house a few miles from here, actually,” said Eleanor. “A very fine house, by all accounts, but it’s just her, along with a few guards and servants.”

“Some folk say she has a lover,” said Ania. “But no one knows who he might be.”

“Doesn’t exactly seem relevant,” said Hasan.

Ania shrugged.

“Anyway, we’ve got clothes for you two.” She paused to dig through her bag, tossing a bundle of clothes first at me, then at Hasan. “You won’t want to show up on her doorstep looking like a pair of street rats.”

“Or farm rats, as the case may be,” said Eleanor. “The tunic might be a big for you,” she added, giving me an apologetic look. “We couldn’t find anything smaller.”

“Nords,” I said, sighing as I held up the oversized blue tunic.

“We can tie a belt around it,” said my husband, smiling. “I am sure you will look lovely, nonetheless.”

“…Please don’t,” I said, now having to speak over the sound of Ania making over-the-top retching noises.”

The following morning, freshly bathed—courtesy of a nearby stream—and dressed, Hasan and I set off. Eleanor and Ania had given us directions to Elisif’s place of residence to the best of their abilities, but our first order of business was finding the main road.

“I have to admit,” said Hasan, as we hiked down the steep side of a hill, moving in a—hopefully—generally eastern direction, “I was surprised the jarl allowed you to do this alone. Well, relatively alone. With me.”

I shrugged.

“I guess he didn’t have much choice.”

“True. But…” He glanced at me, his expression apologetic. “No offense, but he’s been known to not be his usual rational self when it comes to matters pertaining to yourself.”

I couldn’t help the rueful smile I felt spreading onto my face. My family all knew Galmar’s nickname for me—and there was a reason for it, even after all these years.

“Maybe he’s trying to be a little less anxious on my behalf,” I said lightly. “And maybe, in return, I try to allow that I actually _need_ protection sometimes.”

“You?” He scoffed, laughing and giving my back a hearty pat. “Never.”

“You don’t have to sound _so_ incredulous,” I said, smiling despite myself.

“But I’m not. I saw what you did in the ruins. Maybe _I’m_ the one who feels safer, having _you_ around. Ever thought of that?”

I rolled my eyes, still smiling as I shook my head. We spotted the main road not long afterward, and turned north. It was a busy time of the year; calm, summer weather meant plenty of trade taking place between Solitude and Dragon’s Bridge, the next largest city south of here. We frequently had to hastily move aside to allow horses, cattle, and carts to pass us. We occasionally saw patrolling guards, too, and I couldn’t help musing over how stunned they’d be if they’d known who we really were.

The girls’ directions indicated that we should leave the main road when we came to a crossroads with a large, flowering tree in the center. From there, we turned south, the land around us becoming gradually less hilly and seemingly more fertile. Elisif’s house was said to be near the bank of the Karth River, situated on quite the little plot of land, with nary a neighbor close by: an appropriate home for a former queen.

When we saw it, it was unmistakable: three stories high with rounded faux towers on the ends that I now recognized as Breton-influenced architecture, it dominated the landscape. An iron-wrought fence surrounded the immense property, but this seemed mainly to server as pasture for several very beautiful horses, for we were able to let ourselves in without any hassle.

As we made our way up the gravel path towards the front door, I could feel my heart starting to beat just a little bit faster. Everything was riding on my ability to convince Elisif to help us. Suppose I should fail? What then? I could tell from the way Hasan pressed his lips together when he glanced at me that he was likely harboring the same anxious thoughts.

We came up to the house, and I paused, taking a breath. Then I stepped up the prettily-painted stairs, Hasan at my heels, pausing again before the cheerful, yellow door.

I took another deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered to Hasan.

I knocked, surprising myself with how steady and determined the sound was.

“I think I hear someone coming,” said Hasan, and we both straightened.

My nerves intensified. Would it be Elisif herself? A servant? Suppose the servant took one look at the two of us and decided to send us on our way. How were we to prove we were who we really said we were? And— _should_ we reveal our identities to someone we didn’t know, simply because they worked in Elisif’s household? After all, we didn’t even know for certain if she would assist us.

The door opened. And for the second time in my life, I was both relieved and astonished to see, of all people, Harrald Law-Giver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Observe the fruits of my new labor! (my writing schedule 😅) Yeah, sorry guys, but this is what happens when I try to be kinder to myself: we've gone about three days beyond the two week update mark. My sincere apologies, but I want you to all know that the chapter I've been working on GREATLY benefited from my taking my time instead of rushing the way I normally would. And, honestly, I think you're really going to just _love_ that chapter... ❤
> 
> Also! Guess what? We're getting towards the end of Book 3 now 😭 What do you think? Has Casien grown at all? What about Mr. Bear? Galmar?! (No way... 😂)
> 
> Who was as surprised as Casien to see Harrald Law-Giver again?!


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